


Beyond: Silent Hills

by LittleRedTea



Category: Dragon Ball, Silent Hill (Video Game Series), Siren Head - Trevor Henderson
Genre: Alternate Universe - Silent Hill Fusion, Backstory, Blood and Gore, Body Horror, Cross-Posted on FanFiction.Net, Dark Past, Dreams and Nightmares, Fog, Gen, Grimdark, Hallucinations, Inspired by Silent Hill 2, Past Character Death, Past Torture, Past Violence, Psychological Horror, Psychological Trauma, Puzzles, Repressed Memories, Survival Horror
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-23
Updated: 2021-02-28
Packaged: 2021-03-10 05:00:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 27,368
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27687967
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LittleRedTea/pseuds/LittleRedTea
Summary: It started out with a few words. Then the nightmares. And now, he's staring at a letter from his long-lost sister and his estranged childhood friend, telling him to return to his hometown
Relationships: Bulma Briefs/Yamcha, Yamcha (Dragon Ball)/Original Female Character(s)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 1





	1. Manifest

**Chapter 1: Manifest**

* * *

_Is my fate silver-lined?_

_I always was the optimist_

_But I never thought of this_

_Stuck in this state_

_Misaligned_

_Trapped inside the looking glass_

_Tell me, when will all this pass?_

* * *

Dark eyes slowly opened up, their owner taking in their surroundings. Yamcha gave a sleepy, tender smile at the blue hair close to him, snaking his arms about Bulma’s waist and pulling her to him, closing what little distance was between him and his slumbering wife. Wife…Even though it had been six years since they inevitably tied the knot, it honestly still sent shivers down Yamcha’s spine.

Yamcha turned himself slightly to get a good look at the window, seeing the warm, midsummer sunlight shine through the glass. It was still rather early in the morning, the sun still climbing into the sky. The ex-bandit repositioned himself and closed his eyes, allowing himself to sink into the warm, inviting darkness of sleep, hoping to remain here for at least a few more hours…

His hopes were quickly shattered as the familiar sound of tiny feet pattering towards the door reached his ears. Yamcha sighed inwardly. So much for getting a few more relaxing hours. _Brace for impact,_ he mentally told himself. And as if on cue, there was the clicking sound of the door opening, immediately followed by rapid footsteps and excited squealing just before two separate weights pounced on the bed and its occupants.

“Mommy! Daddy!” Bulla excitedly cried out, having jumped on her father’s stomach and succeeding in knocking the breath out of him. If Yamcha wasn’t awake before, he certainly was now. And the same could be said for Bulma.

Bulma made a noise somewhere between a groan and a laugh as she pulled away slightly from her husband to give their children a tired smile. “Creatures in our bed!” she yelled out playfully.

“No sleeping!” Trunks exclaimed, the two-year-old beaming up at his mother as she sat up.

Yamcha couldn’t help the bubble of laughter that passed through his lips, sitting up as well as he took in the sight of his two children. Bulla had inherited her mother’s milky skin, facial features and ocean-blue eyes. Her hair was violet-purple, which they had chalked up to being a mix of Bulma and Yamcha’s own genetics, though it was clear that she had gotten the thickness and choppiness of it from her father.

Trunks, however, was a unique case. The boy had the same tan skin and facial features as his father, though his choppy hair was chestnut-brown and his eyes were a deep shade of green. Bulma and the doctors who had delivered Trunks were initially confused, until Yamcha laughed and told them the truth: his mother had green eyes, while his father had brown hair. Trunks had gotten those traits from Yamcha’s side of the family. Both of them knew that genetics could be weird at times, and their son was living proof of that.

“Alright,” Yamcha half-sighed, half-laughed. He already knew what the two of them wanted, but he asked anyways, “What do you two want for breakfast?”

“Pancakes!” Bulla instantly cried out, the five-year-old jumping up and down on the mattress.

“Pancakes!” Trunks echoed his sister’s excitement.

“Pancakes it is, then,” Bulma giggled out, rubbing the sleep out of her blue eyes. “But get dressed first, both of you!” The children both jumped off the bed and ran back to their own bedrooms instantly, the promise of their favorite breakfast fueling their excitement. Once they were out of the room, Bulma turned to her husband. “Morning,” she said, pulling herself closer to him.

“Morning,” Yamcha responded, snaking his arms around Bulma’s waist as her own wrapped around his shoulders, pressing his lips against hers in a soft yet passionate kiss. Yamcha considered himself the luckiest man alive every day he woke up, his mind instantly going to his amazing wife and their two beautiful children. He wouldn’t trade it for the world. What did he do to deserve something so wonderful?

**OoOoOoO**

To Bulma, any day was a day for a party. The bluenette had held many of them over the years— _at least_ once a week, if Yamcha remembered correctly. Every party was accompanied by deliciously-made food, mostly made by Yamcha and Panchy of course, and pretty much every member of the Z-Fighters and their friends and family. And today’s party wasn’t about to be an exception.

Yamcha laughed mirthfully alongside Tien and Krillin, the three of them having gathered together at one of the various tables outside, half-full drinks and mostly eaten plates of food in front of them. It thankfully wasn’t too hot on this midsummer day, the sun being merciful towards them for once, and everyone had gathered to enjoy the party outdoors.

At a nearby table, Bulma had gathered and chatted with the other women in their friend group. Android 18, who had married Krillin the previous year, had her two-month-old daughter Marron in her arms. The baby girl had inherited her mother’s blonde hair, but the eye color and facial features were unmistakably Krillin’s. Chi-Chi was happily chatting with the women, simultaneously keeping an eye on her three-year-old Goten, who was running around with Bulla and Trunks. The little boy looked so much like Goku, the adults at the party smiling at the energetic half-Saiyan whenever he ran past them.

“Fatherhood been treating you well?” Yamcha asked the former monk, who chuckled into his drink.

“As well as it can,” Krillin admitted. “I’ll say this much: Marron’s pretty easy, as far as babies go.”

Yamcha nodded with a grin. “Trunks was the same way,” he commented, turning his gaze towards his son, the brunette toddler running around with his older sister and best friend without a care in the world. “He was easy to soothe as a baby.” He chuckled. “Bulma sometimes jokes that he got that from me.” The memories of his wife quipping about how their son was quiet like him made him laugh again.

Krillin laughed lightly at that too, then turned to Tien. “So, what about you?” he asked, smirking at the triclops. “You’ve been getting pretty close to Launch lately, huh?”

Tien merely rolled all three eyes at the shorter martial artist. “I have no interest in that kind of stuff,” he replied nonchalantly. “She’s just a friend, nothing more.” Yamcha, for his part, rolled his eyes in amusement and leaned back in his chair, choosing to simply take a sip of his drink as Tien and Krillin continued their conversation and just enjoy his time, finding himself overhearing Bulma and the other women talk at their table nearby.

“There’s going to be a big scientific conference sometime next month,” Bulma was telling Chi-Chi, sighing in mild annoyance. “Honestly, it’s mostly a bunch of stingy jackasses gathering together, but a lot of them are damn geniuses, I’ll say that much.”

Though looking somewhat peeved at Bulma’s use of profanities around children, Chi-Chi piped up, “Who exactly will be gathering there?”

Bulma glanced over at her. “A lot of scientists, most of which are well-known, but some are still climbing their ways upwards,” she replied. “Why do you ask?”

“Well, Gohan’s been talking about a dissertation he’s been reading lately,” Chi-Chi said. “One about theoretical extragalactic astrophysics and cosmology.” Yamcha was silently surprised that she could say that so fast and well without messing up the words, something he still struggled with even after getting married to the heiress of Capsule Corp. “I’ve looked into it myself, and it’s really fascinating. Gohan really likes the man’s research. I was hoping that…maybe I could get him to sign a copy of that essay for Gohan?”

“Oh, I know who you’re talking about,” Bulma said with a grin. “Sure, I’d be happy to get it at the conference.” A look of confusion crossed her features. “What’s his name again?” She mulled it over for a moment before it finally hit her. “Oh, right, you’re talking about Doctor Gordon.”

Gordon…

_Gordon…_

Everything around Yamcha suddenly felt far away, the chatter and laughter around him starting to sound faded as that one word echoed within his mind. A horrid feeling of nausea and uneasiness suddenly gripped at his stomach, easily drowning out the confusion at the sudden feeling that bubbled up within the ex-bandit.

“Yamcha?” Krillin’s voice unexpectedly snapped him back to reality, the scar-faced warrior jumping slightly in his seat out of surprise, only adding to Tien and Krillin’s confusion. “Are…Are you okay?” the former monk asked carefully, unsure how to approach his friend’s sudden change in demeanor. “You look paler than usual.”

For a moment, Yamcha didn’t respond. Then he quietly said, “I’m fine.” In reality, he felt the opposite. The nausea peaked, forcing Yamcha to place his drink on the table and stand up to leave, quietly walking inside as a few of his friends’ eyes followed him. Feeling the contents of his stomach suddenly rise up, he slapped a hand over his mouth and rushed towards the bathroom, practically kicking the door open and kneeling at the toilet, hurling his guts up forcefully into the porcelain.

His mind barely registered the approaching footsteps—his chi sense immediately recognizing Bulma—and once she was close enough, she reached down with both hands and held his hair back as his stomach forced up everything he had eaten at the party. After a minute or so, it seemed that there was nothing left to throw up, his stomach aching and the bitter taste of bile remaining in his mouth.

Yamcha panted, shivering, and spat the last of the disgusting taste out before flushing and standing up, Bulma letting go of his hair as he did so. He walked over to the sink and turned on the water, feeling Bulma place a hand on his back. “Are you okay?” she asked softly. He shrugged mutely, not giving a verbal response, then she continued, “Do you wanna go lie down for a little bit?” Again, no verbal response, just a simple nod of the head. Bulma exhaled quietly and placed a kiss on his scarred cheek. “Get well soon, sweetie,” she said, then walked out of the bathroom and back to the party.

Wordlessly, Yamcha washed out his mouth and splashed water into his face. What the hell was wrong with him? Why did nausea and dread suddenly hit him? Everything had gone from zero to one-hundred within seconds. What had caused that? All he heard was Bulma mention the name of Doctor Gor—

Yamcha felt the sick feeling threaten to come back. He quickly shook his head, trying to push the name out of his thoughts, but it still remained in the back of his head. What was it about that name that sickened him? He searched his memories, but couldn’t find anything.

Letting out a noise somewhere between a groan and a sigh, Yamcha finished up and turned the water off, dragging himself to the living room to lay down on the couch. Hopefully, whatever this was would just go away and he’d be fine by tonight.

Oh, if only he knew how wrong he was…

**OoOoOoO**

_He tried to run. He went as fast as his legs could carry him. He was exhausted, and it felt like his lungs were on fire with each breath he took. But there was nowhere to go. And it didn’t matter how fast he ran or how long._

_It was always right behind him._

_“STAY AWAY FROM ME!” The scream left his throat feeling raw, his face hot and sticky with tears. But alas, his efforts were fruitless. The shrieking noises of a radio overloaded him, forcing him to his knees as his hands covered his ears, his facial features contorted in agony. If his ears were bleeding, he wouldn’t be surprised._

_In the darkness, he could hear it getting closer. Its footsteps were light, but each step might as well be an explosion to him. The shrill, static noises grew in intensity with each passing second. He barely had enough time to open his eyes and look up—to see the tall, bony creature standing above him, the rusty-colored skin with the silver wires stitched into it, the pair of dark, bloodstained megaphone speakers that replaced its head—before the deafening wail of a siren hit him, white-hot pain deluging his mind in an instant._

**OoOoOoO**

_Everything hurt. Everything was pain. His skin felt like it was on fire, the agonizing feeling sinking into his flesh and searing his bones. He couldn’t move, his limbs unresponsive. It felt as if invisible robes tightly secured him to the freezing ground. He was so exhausted. He wanted to sleep, even if it was only for a few minutes, but the darkness wouldn’t let him, mercilessly forcing him to stay awake and feel everything._

_There was a bit of movement out of the corner of his eye. He wanted to look over and see what it was, but he couldn’t even move his head. He only saw a figure, dark and lanky, once they got close enough. “You’ve been so good,” they said, their voice whisper-like and raspy, making it impossible to tell if the voice was male or female. “Shall we continue?” the figure asked, and that’s when he realized that they had a syringe in their hand, filled to the brim with a dark liquid._

_Without even waiting for a response, they jammed the needle into the side of his neck and forced the scalding liquids into his veins. He wanted to scream, but it seemed that even his voice box was paralyzed, not a single sound escaping his mouth. “Perfect,” the figure’s voice sounded cheerful, and he didn’t need to look at them to know that they were smiling. They grabbed his right forearm with one hand, lifting it up so that it was well within his field of view._

_“Let’s get started,” the whisper came again, and the figure was suddenly holding a scalpel in their free hand, slowly slicing down his forearm as red liquids pooled out. The pain was intense. He prayed that he would pass out, or that death would at least show him compassion, but every second dragged on for what felt like an eternity, and he was wide awake for each one._

**OoOoOoO**

_He was trapped in some kind of jail cell._

_He scanned the room, taking in his surroundings. It was a bit dark, but he could tell that it was a small room with four solid walls, each of them coated in grime, and the same could be said about the floor and ceiling. There was a single door on one side of the room, but no matter how much or how hard he pushed and pulled on it, it wouldn’t budge an inch._

_He cursed under his breath and slammed a fist against the grimy door, wanting nothing more than to get out of here. That’s when he noticed there was a rectangular opening near the top of the door, though it had a few vertical bars going through it. Curious, he looked through the bars of the opening, but could only see darkness outside of the room._

_A sudden_ click _nearly made him jump, and he could tell that something had lit up behind him. He turned around. It looked as if someone had turned on a spotlight in the room—from where, he had no idea—and was shining it directly at the bottom of the wall on the other side of the room. And that’s when he saw it._

_There was a doll on the ground, resting against the opposite wall._

_It was small and dirty, a plush toy that had clearly been ripped apart and stitched back together in several places—arms, legs, neck, torso, even the head. Its form held no color, looking as if someone had taken it straight out of an old black and white film. Whatever clothing it had was torn to shreds, barely clinging to its body. Parts of the hair were missing, as was one of the eyes. And a creepy, ear-to-ear grin had been stitched onto its face with black thread._

_A deafening_ bang _suddenly filled the air, and within that split second, the doll suddenly changed, its form bubbling and mutating horribly. It turned into a young girl, not quite a child but not quite an adult. The first thing he noticed was that she had wings. Angel wings, to be exact, but what were once ivory feathers were now filthy and stained red. Her skin was an icy shade of blue, her entire being littered in bloodstained stitches, and her white hair was a disheveled mess._

_But her eyes…Her eyes had been ripped out of her head, leaving only pitch-black sockets behind, empty sockets that seemed to stare into his very soul. A look of horror was etched permanently onto her face. And even though the silence was deafening, he swore he could hear a scream coming from her open mouth as she slowly crawled towards him…_

_His eyes widened at the sight and he quickly tried to back away, terror practically filling his nerves. He backed into the door, and as soon as he made contact with it, it swung open with a loud creak. He stepped through the door without a second thought, only to find out too late that there was nothing outside the room, falling into empty, endless darkness._

**OoOoOoO**

_It felt like pain was trying to course through him, but his entire being was numb to it. His gaze was transfixed onto the darkness. For several minutes, everything was still and peaceful, nothing happening around him._

_The sound of a rusty, metallic shriek nearby reached his ears, and he chose to look around for the first time. The peaceful feeling was shattered in an instant._

_He was hanging upside down from the ceiling. All around him, bodies were hanging from butcher’s hooks, chunks of their flesh having been ripped away and blood dripping to the floor. Some of them had their abdomens sliced open, with their internal organs either spilling out or removed entirely. And now that he was really looking at the bodies…in what little lighting the room had…he recognized their hair colors, their clothing, their faces…_

_They were the bodies of his friends and family._

_He looked up at himself, full expecting to see his own body hanging upside down from a butcher’s hook as well. Instead, he was greeted by the sight of only his upper half. It looked as if his body had been bisected at the waist, with his lower half nowhere to be seen. His upper body seemed to lack any muscle or even fat; he was nothing more than bones and skin, as if he had suffered from a wasting disease or starvation. In lieu of a butcher’s hook, several rusty chains connected his upper half to the ceiling; as if they had a mind of their own, his entrails were snaked up and around the chains, vaguely reminding him of vines._

_The metallic shriek from before came again, this one louder than the last. He tore his gaze away from what was left of his body and looked down, trying to find the source. It didn’t take him long._

_There was a figure on the floor, slowly walking towards him. Once they were close enough, he got a good look at them._

_The figure was male, he could tell; and based on what he could see, the man was tall and muscular. His clothing consisted of a white butcher’s smock and black pants; both articles of clothing were bloodstained. He was barefoot as well. A faceless metal mask hid his identity, and was just as bloodstained as his clothing. From here, he could see that the man had messy, shoulder-length black hair. And in his right hand, he gripped the handle of an enormous axe, slowly dragging it along the ground as he walked, each step eliciting a shriek from the sharp metal as it was scraped along the ground._

_The man stopped underneath him and slowly looked up directly at him. Then, the chains suddenly lowered him downwards with a piercing shriek, bringing him closer and closer to the man. The chains finally grinded to a halt once he was eye-level with the man, who was barely a foot away from him. Even though there were no holes on the mask, he could tell that the man was staring directly into his eyes._

_The man suddenly laughed, quiet and amused. “It’s been too long,” he said. His voice…it sounded eerily familiar…_

_The man raised his left hand to the mask and slowly removed it from his head, revealing the face he knew all too well. A face with tan skin, onyx-black eyes, a scar over his right eye and another on his left cheek, and a grin reminiscent of a Cheshire cat._

_It was almost like looking into a mirror._

_The man lowered the metal mask to the ground and gripped the axe handle with both hands. And without a second thought, with the grin remaining on his face the whole time, the man with his face swung the axe at his head._

**OoOoOoO**

_The world around him was a dark shade of crimson, looking as if someone had painted everything in blood. A sickeningly sweet odor assaulted his nose, forcing him to cover it in a desperate attempt to block it out. But it was all for naught. It wasn’t just a scent. The taste of it was in his mouth. He wanted to vomit._

_A strange sound played all around him, echoing within his ears and refusing to leave him, even as he covered his ears. It was reminiscent of a music box, but it sounded…twisted and wrong, sounding more akin to a song of death than a soothing lullaby. He wanted it to stop, but his silent pleas were not answered, the song growing in intensity with each passing second._

_He removed his hands from his face and dared to look down at them. There were dark scarlet stains on his hands. Blood stains, as if evidence of a horrendous crime he had committed. Where from, he had no idea, but he had a horrible feeling that he didn’t want to know._

_Without even thinking, he backed away, watery eyes shut tight, and suddenly tripped over something that sent him to the ground with a thud. After several long seconds, he reopened his eyes, and as soon as he did, he was greeted with a sight of a mutilated body at his feet._

_He couldn’t make out if the body was male or female, couldn’t see how old they were, what color their skin was, or even their facial features. All he saw on this body were the deep green eyes and the chestnut-brown hair._

**OoOoOoO**

Yamcha shot up in the bed, the sheets pooling around his waist, dark eyes wide open as sweat dripped down his brow. His heart pounded in his chest, the ex-bandit panting heavily as he rapidly scanned the dark room. A part of him wanted to vomit, flashes of the nightmares appearing in his mind.

Almost instinctively, Yamcha threw the covers off of himself and rushed out of the bedroom, heading inside Trunks’ room. And it wasn’t until he saw the little two-year-old boy, dressed in his pajamas and fast asleep in his bed with Puar curled up next to him, that Yamcha allowed himself to calm down. It was just a dream; his son was fine.

He quietly turned and left the room, taking extra care to not wake either of the occupants in the bed. He walked back into his and Bulma’s bedroom, seeing his wife still asleep thanks to the moonlight pouring through the windows. Yamcha gave her slumbering form a sad smile. Poor Bulma, she had been so exhausted from her work that not even him waking up like that from a nightmare had disturbed her.

Yamcha turned his gaze to the clock resting on Bulma’s nightstand, the neon numbers displaying the time 4:09 AM. He sighed inwardly, the adrenaline from earlier starting to leave him, but not to the point where it left him exhausted. A part of him considered going back to sleep, but he quickly scrapped that idea, not wanting to deal with the nightmares again.

It had been happening for the past few nights, even since the party. The first time, he had woken up Bulma, who had managed to calm him down and get both of them back to sleep. Yamcha was hoping the nightmares would just be a one-time thing, but that didn’t seem to be the case. He had tried everything he could think of to stop them, but so far nothing worked.

It was a new one every night. The first one had been that…Siren Head creature, attacking him. Yamcha hadn’t given that one much thought; nightmares about being attacked by a monster weren’t uncommon. But the next one…it made him sick just thinking about it, being mercilessly experimented on and dissected, unable to do anything to stop it. The third…the images of that doll and that angel girl had haunted him throughout the day. And then the fourth…Yamcha wanted to vomit…his friends and family, the people he loved…he knew it was just a nightmare, but the fact that he was responsible for such a thing…

But the one he just woke up from…Everything had been replayed, the cruel mistress that was imagination tormenting him with those vivid images, and just when he thought it was over with, he was hit with that odor and taste, the sound of that music box, the feeling of his bloodstained hands, and the sight of that body didn’t help at all…

Trying to push those images from his mind, Yamcha quietly left the room, knowing that he wasn’t going to get any sleep for the rest of the night. He headed into the kitchen, deciding to make some tea. It had always helped him whenever he had nightmares as a teen, his own sort of ‘comfort food’.

And sure enough, he found himself sitting at the kitchen table, staring down into a cup of warm tea in his hands, the pale silver moonlight illuminating the entire kitchen. He was lost in thought as he watched the steam leave the cup. What was going on? Just what was causing these damn nightmares? A feeling of dread clawed at his gut whenever he thought about it. It all seemed to have started during the party, when Bulma had said that one doctor’s name. Yamcha didn’t dare think of it, lest he end up in the bathroom hurling his guts up again.

But even so, he couldn’t make a connection. What was it about that name that made him feel this way?

Sighing in defeat, he brought the cup to his lips and drank some of the tea, silently savoring the mildly sweet flavor it brought and the warmth it gave him for a moment. He stayed there for several minutes, staring aimlessly into space as his mind finally quieted down. He finished the tea and stood up from his chair, walking over and placing the empty cup in the sink.

He turned around, ready to walk out of the kitchen—he really had no plans; maybe he could watch TV downstairs or go out training until the other members of the Brief family woke up—when something caught his attention. Yamcha turned to see what had caught his eye. A piece of paper was resting on the kitchen table. The ex-bandit frowned. Had he been so caught up in his thoughts that he had missed it while sitting at the table?

He walked over to the table, and immediately saw that the paper had writing on it, but it was too dark to make out what was written. Curious, he picked the paper up and walked into the living room, sitting down on one of the couches and turning on a nearby lamp, giving him enough light to see it. It was some kind of letter, though he didn’t recognize the handwriting at all.

**_Yamcha,_ **

**_In our restless dreams, we both see our old hometown. Kioku Town._ **

**_It’s been too long, Yamcha. Won’t you come visit us? We’d love to see you again. We’ll be waiting for you there._ **

**_Sencha and Tenshi_ **

****

Yamcha swore he felt his heart skip a beat the moment he saw the two names at the bottom of the letter, a sudden nostalgic feeling washing over him. Sencha…Tenshi…His sister and his childhood best friend…He hadn’t seen them since…since…

He furrowed his brow. Come to think of it…When _was_ the last time he even thought of either of them?

Yamcha shook his head, silently berating himself. He hadn’t thought of his own sister or best friend in so long, he couldn’t even remember the last time he actually did. What kind of brother/friend was he?!

But then a new thought creeped into his mind, making him pause. How…How did the letter get in the Capsule Corp. mansion, let alone on the kitchen table? How did Sencha and Tenshi figure out where he lived? How long had the letter just been sitting there?

Yamcha looked over the letter one more time, feeling the nostalgia grow in intensity as his eyes scanned the words ‘Kioku Town’. His hometown. The place where he, Sencha and Tenshi had all been born and raised. Come to think of it, he hadn’t thought about Kioku Town in ages, either.

Maybe he should wait until morning to head there…

As soon as that thought entered his mind, doubt began to creep in. He couldn’t explain the sudden feeling, but…Something in the back of his mind told him that he needed to head there _now._ It wasn’t going to let him stay until morning…

Deciding to follow his instincts, Yamcha placed the letter on the coffee table in front of him and headed back up to his room. Quiet as to not disturb Bulma, who was thankfully still in a deep slumber, Yamcha walked into the large closet housing all their clothing. He quickly removed his pajamas and opted to wear a pair of gray trousers with black shoes and white socks, and a white tank top underneath a long-sleeved, button-up white martial arts jacket. Sure, it might seem like a stupid idea to wear such long clothing in the middle of summer, but it had honestly never bothered Yamcha.

Once that was done with, with him running his fingers through his long hair in an attempt to comb through it, Yamcha headed back downstairs. He quickly found another piece of paper and a pen, hurriedly writing down a note for Bulma or whoever found this first when they woke up, as to not worry them about the lack of his presence, and placed it next to the letter on the coffee table, knowing that they’d read it and understand.

He first thought of just flying there, but after giving it some thought, he decided against it, instead opting to find the capsule that held his personal hover car. Sure, he could get there much quicker if he flew, but he honestly just wanted some time alone with his thoughts before he got to Kioku Town, wanting to process everything running through his mind. After a few minutes, he finally found the capsule and headed outside, quietly shutting the front door behind him.

As soon as he made it to the driveway, he clicked the capsule and threw it onto the driveway, and with a puff of smoke, his red hover car, the one that Bulma had gotten him for his birthday a few years ago, appeared. Wordlessly, he climbed inside and turned the car on, switching on the light and opening the glovebox to dig through it. Sure enough, he found what he was looking for: a paper map. Some might scoff at the idea of having one, seeing as how advanced technology was that they now had digital maps, but Yamcha still liked using them.

He opened it up, searching for Kioku Town. There. Yamcha looked at the route had could take to get there, and quickly calculated that the fastest route would only take a couple of hours to drive there. He smiled despite himself and put the map down on the passenger seat, backing the car out of the driveway and heading off into the night.

Sencha…Tenshi…After all this time, he was finally going to see them again.

* * *

_'Cause you fall in and fall away_

_This love is in retrograde_

_Fall in and fall away_

_I kinda think you like this_

_Regress_

_Fall in and fall away_

_There's something in the hate we make_

_Fall in and fall away_

_I can see the darkness_

_Manifest_


	2. Echo

**Chapter 2: Echo**

* * *

_I thought it was destiny_

_I was gonna conquer the sky_

_Then plummet to the ground and be_

_Anchored by your side_

_But when every time I found myself upon new heights_

_I would climb again_

_And leave you in the moonlight_

* * *

Yamcha’s mind ran a million miles an hour as he drove down the highway, the first ray of dawn just barely beginning to light up the darkened sky. This whole thing was just crazy, his mind struggling to comprehend it.

He didn’t have a lot of memories. What little pieces he had of his childhood were mostly blurry. The first clear memory he actually had was celebrating his eleventh birthday at the children’s mental hospital in Orange Star City. He didn’t remember a lot of things about the hospital, but he had heard the workers there mention ‘repressed memories’ around him several times. At first, it had bothered him. Why couldn’t he remember anything? What was so bad that his mind had blocked out the majority of his childhood?

Did it have something to do with his parents? Yamcha remembered their names—Chawan and Fukusa. He remembered his father’s brown hair and dark eyes, and his mother’s reddish-orange hair and warm green eyes. He had a few blurry memories of them, and each of them were happy ones. Heck, he even remembered his grandmother, Ochako, his father’s mother and the woman who Yamcha had inherited his black hair from. What little memories he had of her were happy ones as well.

But then why couldn’t he remember his sister or friend very well? Yamcha wracked his brain for something—anything—that he remembered about Sencha. He felt like she was his younger sister, but how much younger, he had no idea. And…did she have green eyes? Yamcha resisted the urge to bang his head against the steering wheel. What kind of brother was he, forgetting his own sister?

And then there was Tenshi. She was older than him, he knew that, but he didn’t know how much older, and honestly couldn’t gather any other information about her. What did she even look like, again? Weren’t her eyes…blue?

During his time at the children’s mental hospital, Yamcha hadn’t been able to recollect anything about his life before living at the hospital. As time went on, he began to suspect the worse. Were his friends and family dead? Had something terrible happened to them? Every attempt he made to think back had been fruitless. At the time, and even now, the only things he could remember were his parents and grandmother. And until he had read that letter, he hadn’t even remembered his sister, his friend, or even the town he had grown up in. A part of him had been worried that he would be stuck in the hospital for the rest of his life, and being the dumb kid that he was, he found a way to escape and ran off, soon finding himself living the life of a desert bandit.

In his mind, his past was literally dead. He had no family or friends to speak of, and had very little memories of his life before, so to him, it made sense to live this new lifestyle and take care of himself, something he had continued until the day he met Goku, Bulma and Oolong at age sixteen.

But to hear that Sencha and Tenshi were not only alive, but wanted to meet up with him in Kioku Town…

Yamcha saw that his exit was coming up and pulled into it, now finding himself driving down an old, worn-out road. It made sense. If he recalled correctly, Kioku Town was a sleepy little town in the midst of nowhere, out of sight with the major cities and town.

Several more minutes passed, him driving down the worn road until…

Yamcha frowned as he pressed his foot against the brakes, gradually slowing down the hover car until it came to complete stop. “What the…?” he said under his breath, perplexed as he turned the car off and stepped out. He capsulized it and placed it back in his pocket as he slowly walked forward. He was at the entrance to Kioku Town, he could tell based on the large sign that stood to the right of the road. It was quite old, with the green and yellow paint on it looking faded and parts of it being chipped away, but it still proudly displayed the words _‘Welcome to Kioku Town’_. But…

A thick, heavy fog blanketed the town. Yamcha narrowed his eyes as he walked closer, just barely beginning to see the outlines of buildings in the distance, confusion bubbling within him. He looked up, and that confusion only intensified as he saw that the sky, which had been a warm shade of pink and orange only a few minutes before, was now gray and bleak, not a hint of sunlight to be seen.

An icy wind suddenly hit him, making him shiver and he wrapped his arms around himself, and that’s when he finally noticed that he could see his breath whenever he exhaled. Okay, now he was just baffled. Why was it so cold all of a sudden? It was the middle of summer, for crying out loud! He was suddenly glad that he had decided to wear long clothing.

Movement in the distance caught his attention, making him look down to see the silhouette of a person standing in the distance. Yamcha blinked at the sight and found himself walking towards the silhouette. “Hello?” he called out, only to be met with silence; if the figure heard him, they didn’t show it. He couldn’t make out their appearance very well, but he could tell that they were an adult, possibly a woman, and he could vaguely see the long brown hair that covered the top of their head, before they suddenly turned and ran away from him, completely vanishing into the fog.

Yamcha’s surprise at the sudden action made him stop in his tracks, but he quickly regained himself and ran after the person. “Hey, wait!” He called out, running down the street and passing by the buildings as he tried to at least get a glimpse of the silhouette again, but he couldn’t find them. It was as if they had disappeared altogether.

A minute of fruitless chasing resumed before Yamcha slowed himself down to a stop, sighing heavily. As soon as he did, he felt something cold and wet touch his cheek, making him blink and rub his cheek to try and see what it was, but he got his answer when he looked back up and was greeted with the sight of small, white specks floating down towards him in the air. Snow?

Yamcha groaned as he rubbed his head with one hand. Just what was going on with this town? Then he shook his head, remembering exactly why he was here. He could figure out what made this town so peculiar later. He focused for a moment, trying to pick up that person’s—or really _anyone’s_ —chi…and frowned when we felt nothing. There’s wasn’t a single sign of life in this town, or anywhere nearby.

But…Sencha and Tenshi had said they would be here. So why couldn’t he sense anything? Did they learn how to suppress their chi like the other Z-Fighters had? It wasn’t impossible to believe that there were others who could learn to manipulate chi, based on Yamcha’s experiences with past enemies. But even so, it didn’t make sense. Sencha and Tenshi had said that they _wanted_ to see him here, so what reason would they have for hiding from him?

As he allowed his thoughts to wonder, Yamcha looked around for the first time, beginning to notice details about his surroundings. Several buildings surrounded him, all of them looking quite old and abandoned, the paint looking faded and chipped, nearly all of the windows and doors were boarded up, and rust and dirt coated the structures. Yamcha couldn’t help but frown. What had happened to this town? How long had it been abandoned, and why?

 _Wait a minute…_ A sudden realization struck him like an angry bolt of lightning, the nostalgia practically punching Yamcha in the gut. “I know this street,” he whispered to himself, starting to walk forward again. This was the street where—

Yamcha looked up and to his right, and sure enough, a small schoolhouse came into view. The red paint was faded and dull, with the roof looking like it was on the verge of caving in. The bell atop the building was almost completely rusted over and looked like it would never ring again. The windows were all boarded up, with some of the glass being broken. The door was closed, but the rotting wood looked as if it were about to collapse at any given second. Right next to the schoolhouse was a fenced-in playground, one with a slide, swing set, a roundabout, and a seesaw. The grass below it was surprisingly green, while everything in the playground was rusted up and even had vines and plants growing on them, making it clear that none of them had been used in a long time.

Yamcha could only focus on the schoolhouse at the moment, nostalgia continuing to flood through him. This was his old school.

Without even thinking, he walked up to the door of the schoolhouse and placed his hand on the doorknob, finding that it was unlocked. He pushed the door open with a loud, rusty creak and stepped inside. It was still a bit cool indoors, but certainly a welcome change from the freezing temperatures outside. The building was dimly lit, with the only light source coming from the opening in the boarded-up windows and the open door.

Yamcha looked around the room as he did so. The entire classroom was old and filthy like everything he had seen outside, a layer of dust covering pretty much every surface. There was a large chalkboard at the front of the class, with the teacher’s desk in front of it. Several desks lined the room, where the students would spend a good portion of their days learning.

The ex-bandit scanned the entire room. Minus the decay, it was exactly as he remembered it.

Colors and images suddenly swam in his vision, making him blink in surprise. The classroom was suddenly well-lit and clean, the color returning and easily overpowering the dullness from moments before. A ghostly image of an older woman was at the chalkboard, having written some math problems on it and was trying to give a lesson on them. All around him, the ghostly images of students sat at the desks, writing away in their notebooks as the teacher continued to talk, though to Yamcha her voice was faded and distance, almost as if she were underwater.

Then realization replaced his confusion. Was this…a memory?

No sooner had the thought entered his mind than he saw the image of a little boy sitting at one of the desks. Yamcha’s eyes widened and he walked up to the side of the desk. The little boy couldn’t have been any older than five or six. He had sun-kissed tan skin, choppy black hair that reached his shoulders, onyx-black eyes that stared in boredom at his notebook, and he was dressed in a white shirt, blue jeans and black and white sneakers.

Yamcha could only stare in shock. This was his younger self.

A quiet _‘psst’_ grabbed Yamcha’s attention, as well as his younger self, and both of them turned to the source. At the desk right next to his younger self was the image of a little girl, who looked to be the same age as him. She possessed fair skin, chestnut-brown hair that was tied into a shoulder-length ponytail with bangs swept to the right, deep green eyes that were narrowed into a glare at the boy, and she was wearing a pale red dress with white boots and a white ribbon keeping her hair up.

_Sencha._

Yamcha’s dark eyes widened. It was Sencha, his sister. Now he remembered. They were twins, with Yamcha being older by ten minutes, if he recalled correctly. She looked so much like Trunks…Or rather, his son looked so much like his aunt Sencha…

As soon as the images of Sencha and the younger Yamcha made eye contact, Sencha wordlessly nodded her head towards the chalkboard, where the teacher continued with her lessons. The younger Yamcha looked up, his face couldn’t decide if it should turn red or pale, and it was that moment that Yamcha realized that his younger self’s notebook was filled with children’s doodles instead of the notes and math problems.

Yamcha chuckled as he watched his younger self flip to a clean page and hastily write down what was on the board. Sencha, for her part, looked satisfied as she returned her attention to her own work. The images started to fade away, giving way to the previous dullness and decay.

Yamcha smiled warmly at the memory. Bits of his memories were started to come back to him. He and Sencha had done everything together, always playing and having fun, though when it came to schoolwork, Sencha had been the one to keep her brother in line whenever his mind wandered or he drew in his notebook instead of doing the lessons.

How could he have forgotten all of this? What exactly happened that made him block out his childhood, even the happy parts?

A sudden sound hit Yamcha’s ears, knocking him out of his thoughts and making him turn back to the open door. A siren was going off in the distance. What the…?

As the noise rang through the air, a spike of sharp pain suddenly erupted in his head. Yamcha shut his eyes tightly and placed both hands to his head, trying to will away the pain as the siren continued to go off. It continued for several seconds, and as the siren started to fade away, so did the pain. Yamcha finally reopened his eyes, but was greeted with darkness all around him.

“What…How did…?” Yamcha started to ask, but his questions were cut short as a putrid, rotting stretch hit him. Yamcha nearly gagged as he covered his mouth and nose with one hand. Where the hell had that odor come from? The air smelled fine just a second ago.

Yamcha rose his free hand and formed a bit of chi in his palm, creating his own light source so he could see around in the dark…and immediately wished that he hadn’t.

The walls, which simply had the paint faded and chipped away just moments before, were now caked with dried blood and grime. Sections of the now-rotting floor looked like they had been ripped away, revealing a heavily-rusted metal platform underneath. But that’s not what disturbed him.

Rotting human remains were strewn about the classroom. Entrails laid across the floor, severed arms on the desks looking as if they were reaching for something, and patches of dead skin hung from the ceiling, as if they were some kind of sick, twisted party decorations.

Yamcha had to hold himself back from hurling his guts up at the sight. What the hell was going on? What was all of this?! Where did it come from?!

…Did that siren have anything to do with this?

Yamcha turned to the nearest window, able to see the outside thanks to the openings between the boards. The foggy world was now pitch-black, and would’ve been damn near impossible to see had it not been for his chi light source. And the outside world was no better than the inside of the schoolhouse. From what he could see, the grass was now dead, the vines and plants that had grown around the playground were now black and void of any life, while the playground equipment was now bloodstained and grime-covered, just like the schoolhouse walls had been.

Movement caught Yamcha’s eye, and he looked up through the window to see a silhouette in the playground, but couldn’t make our who or what it was before it walked into the black fog, disappearing from Yamcha’s sight. Yamcha felt hope begin to rise in his chest. There was someone else here. If he wasn’t so disturbed and confused right now, he would’ve reached out with his chi sense to make sure. But right now, all his mind could focus on was that there was someone else in this damned town.

Yamcha turned away from the window and rushed to the open door, exiting the schoolhouse and heading back outside into the darkness. Based on what he could see, the nearby buildings looked as if they had rapidly decayed since he walked into the schoolhouse, looking as if they were more than ready to collapse in on themselves.

Without missing a beat, Yamcha headed over to the playground area and hopped over the fence with ease, landing on the other side gracefully. He looked around, trying to see the silhouette again. As soon as he did, though, a noise hit his ears. It wasn’t the siren again. The noise was soft and sounded like…like a music box was playing.

A feeling of unease gripped at Yamcha’s gut, the memory of his most recent nightmare resurfacing in his mind. He quickly pushed it back down, choosing instead to start looking for the silhouette again, but as he did, curiosity began to make itself known. Where was that music box sound coming from?

As if to answer his question, Yamcha spotted something on the ground right next to the swing set. He walked over to it, realizing that it was some kind of messenger bag. To his surprise, it wasn’t filthy or bloodstained like the everything else around him. In fact, even though it looked quite old and faded, it was clean and free of any grime. And the sound was coming from the bag.

Yamcha crouched down and opened up the messenger bag, and sure enough, his suspicions were confirmed. Inside the bag were three items: a flashlight, a folded-up piece of paper, and a small music box, one big enough to pit in the palm of his hand, that was blue with golden accents, and was playing its song. Yamcha frowned at the music box. He felt like he had seen it before, but he couldn’t pinpoint where…

The music box slowly increased in volume, confusing him for a moment. And at that moment, movement caught his eye again. Yamcha looked up, and saw that the silhouette was standing several feet away from him, just past the roundabout. Without even thinking, Yamcha abandoned the messenger bag and walked over to them, but stopped short as his light shined on the figure and he assessed them.

It was another person, definitely male based on what he could see, standing with his back to Yamcha and looking to be a bit hunched over. Except…the person was completely naked, not a hint of any kind of clothing in sight. He had choppy black hair similar to Yamcha’s that ended at his midback, though it faded to red halfway down. He was silent and unmoving.

Yamcha stared at their backside for a moment, then managed to find his voice. “U-Uh, excuse me?” he said, taking a few steps towards the figure, who seemed to hear him but didn’t respond. “What…What are you…Why aren’t you wearing any clothing? You know it’s freezing out here, right?” His confused mind grasped at anything to say in this situation. “Hey, do you know what’s going on in this—?”

Yamcha didn’t get the chance to finish his question. The figure had started to turn around as he talked, now facing the ex-bandit…and Yamcha’s words died on his lips as he inhaled sharply in shock, dark eyes widening at the sight before him.

He had been right, the figure was a male, and he could see that he had white streaks in his bangs. But…

The figure looked as if he was barely clinging to life. His entire body had been mutilated and severely disfigured beyond recognition. There were too many lacerations on his body to count, each one bleeding profusely, a stream of red cascading down his skin and dripping onto the dead grass beneath him. It was clear that each cut was deeply infected, as the skin was swollen and was an ugly mix of red, purple and green, with pus oozing out in several places. But his face…his face was the worst. Yamcha couldn’t properly make out any features—not a mouth, nose or even eyes—underneath all the torn-up and blood-smeared flesh.

Oh Kami…

Yamcha couldn’t find his voice, too shocked at the sight of the figure in front of him to even more. Then, the figure took one step in his direction, and he felt it.

Fear.

He didn’t understand why. He had fought literal monsters, so why did this…this _thing_ fill him with terror when the others hadn’t? Yamcha’s first instinct was to run, but he found himself unable to move, as if his feet were incased in cement. Without even thinking, he reached out with his chi sense, trying to assess the figure’s power level. But…

He couldn’t sense anything from them.

It didn’t make any sense. Was the figure an Android or something? It was the only logical explanation, but at the same time, something in the back of Yamcha’s mind told him that it wasn’t the case.

The figure took another step towards him, and this time, Yamcha found himself and backed away from the figure. The figure looked as if it were about to take another step, but froze. The figure turned his head as if to look around, though Yamcha doubted he could see anything. For a few seconds, nothing happened. Yamcha’s eyes never left the figure as he continued to back away.

Then, without warning, the figure snapped his head up in Yamcha’s direction, the ex-bandit flinching as a squelching crack filled the air when he did so, and rapidly charged in Yamcha’s direction. It felt as if adrenalin had suddenly kneed him in the gut, and Yamcha bolted away from the figure, rushing to the other end of the playground in the blink of an eye. The figure, on the other hand, had run into the fence where Yamcha had been standing a moment before, hitting the grimy bars and a loud crack filling the air.

The figure seemed stunned as he stumbled back, taking a moment to regain himself. And that’s when Yamcha finally noticed that the song from the music box had suddenly grown much louder, the figure now much closer to it. But before Yamcha had the chance to think about it any further, the figure regained himself and quickly charged at him again.

Maybe it was the fear and panic that weighed heavily in his gut, or maybe it was the adrenalin coursing through his veins, but the next thing Yamcha knew, he curled his free hand into a fist, and once the figure was close enough, swung out and slammed it harshly into his face.

A crunching noise filled the air as his fist connected, scarlet liquids splashing onto his skin as the figure was sent flying backwards several feet and fell the ground with a thud. Yamcha’s eyes widened as he looked back and forth between his fist and the figure as it struggled to stand back up, blood continuing to pour from his wounds. Why…Why had he done that?!

“I-I’m sorry,” he called out, desperately praying to whatever gods he knew that the figure had just attacked him out of blind fear, that it was just an innocent, injured person who needed his help, as the figure slowly made his way back to his feet. “Please, I didn’t want to hurt you, you just startled me…Let me help—”

For the second time, his sentence was cut short, because as the figure stood all the way back up, he suddenly grabbed his head with both hands and seemed to be writhing in unbridled agony. Yamcha instantly went silent as he stared in horror. He hadn’t struck the figure that hard, had he? But before he had to chance to say or do anything else, the figure threw his head back, and before Yamcha’s eyes, an arm burst from the figure’s face, completely soaked in dark crimson fluids as the flesh split apart and droplets flew all over the place.

Whatever hope that Yamcha had felt was shattered.

This thing wasn’t human.

The figure let out an ear-splitting, unholy shriek as the newly-formed arm clawed and grasped at the air, forcing Yamcha to cover his ears. The chi light source vanished as he did so, plunging the world around them into darkness again. The shriek came to an abrupt stop, and the first thing Yamcha heard when he removed his hands from his ears was the sound of rapidly approaching footsteps.

Panic set in again and without thinking, Yamcha raised up his hand and sent a chi blast in the direction of the footsteps. A flash of light filled the area, and Yamcha watched as the chi blast slammed into the figure, who let out another shriek—this one thankfully not as loud—as he was sent barreling to the ground again as they were plunged into darkness once more.

The horrid stench of burning flesh filled the air, and Yamcha formed a bit of chi in his palm again, the light of it allowing him to see that the figure’s skin was now singed, the dark red arm flailing in the air as if in panic. The figure got back up to his feet, though a bit slower this time, and charged at Yamcha again. The hand of the arm clawed at the open air, looking ready to tear apart anything it could grasp.

It wanted to kill him.

The moment this realization struck Yamcha, his mind shut down. His instincts took over, and the moment it was close enough, Yamcha placed all of his strength into a powerful roundhouse kick that he aimed at the figure’s head. A loud, sickening snap echoed throughout the air, and the figure’s body was sent soaring one last time. It crashed through the rotting wall of the schoolhouse, sending the desks and chairs flying across the room as it landed on the disgusting floors with a heavy thud.

As if the snap had brought him back to reality, a heavy feeling of dread weighed in Yamcha’s gut. Did…Did he just…?

He headed over to the newly-formed hole in the side of the schoolhouse, his chi light source allowing him to see inside. And sure enough, he was greeted by the sight of the figure lying on the ground, motionless and silent. Its head was twisted at an awkward angle, and the dark red arm was limp, not moving at all.

Dark eyes locked onto the lifeless body before him. He had killed it.

His mind felt as if it were in a civil war, the guilt and horror he felt at the realization threatening to overwhelm him. At the exact same time, another voice in his head told him that this thing wasn’t human, that it wanted to kill him, that he did no wrong by ending its life. And he couldn’t decide which side he wanted to listen to, the silence around him practically deafening.

Wait a minute. Silence?

Yamcha blinked as he turned around, his eyes quickly landing on the messenger bag by the swing set. The music box had stopped playing. It was so quiet; you could’ve heard a pin drop. He shook his head, his mind struggling to grasp at just about anything at this point. What was going on? Why was all of this happening? There had to be an explanation for this, but any kind of reasoning escaped him.

Not sure what else to do, Yamcha walked over to the messenger bag and crouched down, looking into it once more. He pulled out the flashlight, turning it on as his chi light source vanished. The artificial light was scintillating, much to his pleasant surprise, which he was thankful for in the darkness. Curiosity urged him to look at the piece of paper, and when he did, he was stupefied once more as he realized that it was a map of Kioku Town.

He looked it over, a few things starting to click now. He saw it all. The town’s entrance, the roads, the shops, the schoolhouse, the library, the restaurants, the houses and apartments…It was all here.

A flash of color caught his eye, and he looked up. The colors and images—another memory—from before had returned, the world turning from dark and foggy to warm and bright. Everything looked clean and inviting, the ghostly images of children running around and laughing and having fun on the playground. Yamcha stood back up, map and flashlight still in hand, and as he did, he spotted the images of his younger self and Sencha. They were here at the swing set, the younger Yamcha happily swinging as Sencha sat reclined against one of the set’s poles, focused on the book in her hands.

Yamcha smiled at the sight. While he was definitely the more adventurous of the two of them, Sencha had always been the bookworm, taking the chance to read whenever she could. It was all coming back to him now.

His younger self looked up and suddenly halted himself on the swing, making Sencha look up as well. Yamcha followed their gaze, and was greeted by the sight of a young girl on the other side of the fence, watching them with a smile on her face. The girl looked to be a little bit older than his younger self by a few years, and…she possessed milky skin, aqua-blue hair that was tied into messy low pigtails, azure-blue eyes, a band-aid over her left cheek, and her outfit consisted of a gray-pink T-Shirt underneath a pair of purple overalls and blue and white sneakers.

_Tenshi._

Yamcha couldn’t believe it. She…She looked exactly liked Bulma, almost identical. This girl was his childhood friend. But why hadn’t he remembered her until now, especially since she looked so much like his wife?

“ _Tenshi!_ ” The younger Yamcha cried out happily at the sight of the blue-haired girl, jumping off the swing and running up to the fence, Sencha right behind him with her now closed book in hand.

The image of Tenshi giggled softly as the brother-sister pair reached the fence. “ _Hey, guys,_ ” she said.

“ _What are you doing here?_ ” Sencha asked, tilting her head in mild confusion. “ _I mean, our lessons don’t end for another hour._ ”

“ _I know,_ ” Tenshi said, one hand digging into her overalls pocket. “ _But I was at the junk yard earlier, and check out what I found._ ” She pulled the object of interest out of her pocket, and the twins took a moment to admire it.

Yamcha’s eyes widened as he realized what was in her hand. It was a small music box, big enough to fit into the palm of her hand, and though it was filthy and rusty, they could tell it was blue with golden accents…

“ _Whoa…_ ” the younger Yamcha breathed out in awe, then looked back up at the blue-haired girl. “ _Does it work?_ ” Tenshi nodded with a grin as she reached up and cranked the rusty handle a few times. The metal creaked as she did so, but once she was done, a soft, beautiful melody sounded from the box, much to the trio’s awe.

The images slowly faded away, once again giving way to the dark world around him. Yamcha blinked at what he had just witnessed, then turned back to the messenger bag. He set the map back down and picked up the third item within the bag.

There was no mistaking it. This was Tenshi’s music box, though much cleaner and polished, and even after all these years, it hadn’t lost its beautiful melody. Now he remembered. After their lessons at the schoolhouse had ended, Tenshi and the twins had gone back to where the latter lived, and his grandmother had cleaned up the music box while they played, restoring it to its former glory.

Tenshi…Yamcha blinked again as a new piece of information surface in his brain. Tenshi didn’t have a family like he and Sencha had. She was one of the few orphans in the town. The adults always took care of her, but she acted like a ‘lone wolf’, even at a young age, constantly deciding to sleep under the stars and spending the majority of her free time either at the junk yard or wandering around the town, never really settling down with a family. It reminded him of Goku when he was a kid, honestly, which made him chuckle slightly.

But she was always close with Yamcha and his family. The black-haired boy had actually been the first to befriend her, when he was three and she was six, and she had opened up to them. Tenshi would constantly be over for family dinners and to play with the twins. The ex-bandit smiled warmly at the memories.

Yamcha placed the music box back in the bag and pulled up the map again. “Okay,” he breathed out quietly. He slung the bag’s strap over his shoulder and stood up, having a feeling he’d need it sooner or later. Holding the flashlight in one hand and the open map in the other, he looked the latter over.

Where would Sencha and Tenshi be? He scanned the map for any kind of special landmarks, a place in their childhood where they would’ve met up, but what little memories he had couldn’t supply him with anything. Yamcha sighed heavily as he folded the map back up and put it back in the bag. He looked around, inwardly wincing at the sight of the hole in the schoolhouse, not wanting to even think about what had just occurred.

There was no reason to stay here. Still gripping the flashlight in his hand, Yamcha walked back to the fence and jumped over it with ease, landing on the other side and walking off into the foggy darkness.

* * *

_I was only in my mind_

_You were on the outside waiting_

_I could feel you all the time_

_Your voice could save me_

_Now all these sirens sing for me_

_But I just wanna hear your melody_

_I call and I can hear you sing_

_But oh_

_It's only my echo_

_It's only my echo_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In case anyone’s wondering what Tenshi’s music box sounds like, I imagine it sounding just like the music box puzzle from Silent Hill 2


	3. Where the Skies End

**Chapter 3: Where the Skies End**

* * *

_Do you hear me?_

_You're a Goliath to me_

_I'll be there when the bombs unfurl_

_Till the war is over_

_Lay your burdens on me_

_I can bear all the weight of the world_

_With you on my shoulders_

* * *

Bulma groaned softly as the morning sunlight pulled her from her slumber, sitting up as she reached a hand up to rub the sleep from her groggy blue eyes. She immediately noticed the lack of warmth next to her, and turned to see that Yamcha’s side of the bed was empty, her husband nowhere to be seen. The bluenette didn’t give it much thought. He probably got up earlier than her and headed downstairs to make breakfast.

Bulma paused for a moment. Yamcha had been having recurring nightmares for the past few nights, and she was silently hoping that wasn’t what had woken him up again. She knew it was wearing on him, even if he wouldn’t admit it out loud.

The familiar sound of rapidly approaching footsteps brought her back to reality. She exhaled with a fond smile on her face, and similar to each time before, the door opened with a click and two little blurs rushed in and jumped on the bed.

“Morning, Mommy!” Trunks said happily, the two-year-old still wearing his pajamas and his chestnut hair a disheveled mess. Right next to him, Bulla was in pretty much an identical state.

Bulma laughed warmly at her children’s actions, and that’s when Bulla noticed the lack of a certain presence. “Mommy, where’s Daddy?” the violet-haired girl asked.

“I’m not sure,” Bulma answered. “Maybe he’s downstairs making breakfast.” She smiled at them. “Tell you what: why don’t you two get dressed, and we can eat downstairs?”

The duo didn’t need telling twice, both of them rushing off the bed and back into their rooms. Bulma got up from the mattress as well, grabbing her robe and putting it on over her nightgown as she made her way out of the room.

“Yamcha?” she called out as she made her way down the stairs, expecting to hear him shout back and to smell whatever breakfast he was cooking. Instead, she was met with silence and nothing. The Capsule Corp. heiress frowned, confusion beginning to stir within her. She was about to call out again as she got to the bottom of the stairs, but cut herself off when she noticed two pieces of paper on the coffee table. Curious, Bulma walked over to the table and picked one of papers up. This one had Yamcha’s handwriting, though the words were hastily written, as if he was in a rush when he did so.

**_I’ve gone to visit my sister and an old friend. The letter will explain everything. I promise I’ll be back soon._ **

**_Yamcha_ **

Bulma stared at the letter in confusion. Yamcha had never mentioned having a sister. Then again, he had told her that he didn’t remember a lot of his childhood, so maybe it was starting to come back to him? She placed the paper down and picked up the second one right next to it, and…

Bulma frowned as she looked the paper over and turned it around. Was…was she missing something? Yamcha said that this would explain everything, but…

The piece of paper was blank.

**OoOoOoO**

With a flashlight in one hand and the map in the other, Yamcha wasn’t having the best time trying to figure out where to go. He had already tried heading to different, nearby shops, trying to restore any memories he might have of going there, but nothing had resurfaced since he left the schoolhouse. The snow was still falling, now covering the streets in a light, blood-splashed dusting beneath his feet, and half the battle was keeping any flakes from landing on the map and soaking it.

Yamcha grumbled under his breath, currently standing underneath the cloth awning of an abandoned flower shop. Sure, over half of the awning was torn up and stained with blood and grime like everything else in the town, but the section where he was standing provided shelter from the snow, and he was more than thankful for that as he tried to look over the map again. He scanned over the map once more, shining his light on it, silently debating where he should head to next.

He froze in his actions as he heard it. The siren was going off again, though it sounded a little bit closer this time. Oh Kami…the last time it went off…

The same spike of agony surface in his head, forcing Yamcha to shut his eyes tightly as the sound echoed throughout the town. When the siren finally died down into silence after several long seconds, the pain vanished along with it, just like last time, and Yamcha hesitantly reopened his eyes, which widened in surprise.

The world was back to normal. It was no longer dark and stained with blood and grime, and the constant rotting stench around him was gone as well. He could see perfectly fine without the flashlight now, though the world was still gray, foggy and cold. Yamcha exhaled in confusion, his breath clouding in front of him, before he turned the flashlight off and storing both it and the map in the messenger bag.

He found himself asking the same question for the umpteenth time: Just what the hell was going on? What was behind all of this?

Yamcha was snapped out of his thoughts as movement caught his eye again, and he looked up to see a figure slowly walking around not too far from where he was. Yamcha was hesitant to head in their direction, still unnerved about what happened the last time he went after someone, but found himself trying to find reason. As strange as it all was, that monstrous creature from the schoolhouse had only appeared _after_ the first siren went off and turned the world gruesome, so things were only bad when the world had been dark and dilapidated…right?

After all the confusion since he arrived in Kioku Town, that kind of logic made sense, and he found himself walking out from underneath the awning and towards the figure. They stopped as he started to draw closer, but just as Yamcha got close enough to determine that the figure was female and had blue hair, she suddenly turned and ran off into the fog, almost mirroring what had happened with the brown-haired figure when he first arrived.

Yamcha’s heart had leapt to his throat the moment he realized she had blue hair. Was that…?

“Tenshi?” He called out. No response came, and he rushed off after the woman. “Tenshi, wait! It’s me, Yamcha!”

But just like last time, there was no sign of the figure as he gave chase, no matter how fast he ran. He stopped after a few minutes. Nothing. And just like the last time, he couldn’t feel any nearby chi.

He took in his surrounding after a moment or two. The ground beneath him, though still blanketed in a light dusting of white snow, was now dirt and grass instead of asphalt and cement. Nostalgia and curiosity began to bubble up inside of him, and he immediately pursued the emotions and continued walking. This area was familiar.

It finally hit him where he was when he stopped a few feet away from the edge of a lake, which hadn’t even begun to freeze over. There was an old wooden deck that went out several feet into the gray water, and just a couple of yards away from him was an apple tree. Despite the gelid weather around them, the leaves still clung to the tree and were surprisingly green, as if the frost and snow hadn’t affected it at all, and the fruits that hung from it were fresh and bright red.

This was the town’s park—Hikari Park.

The moment the realization struck him, the familiar images and colors from before began to flood his vision. He looked up and around at the new memory. Thanks to the lack of fog, he could easily see the rest of the park. Bright green grass covered the ground beneath his feet, and warm sunlight reflected off the blue waters of the lake. Various flowers, bushes and trees were planted all around the park, including the apple tree close to him. A single sidewalk looped around the entire park, and there were several benches in the area. All around him, the ghostly images of people—of the residents of Kioku Town—went about their days; talking, laughing, relaxing, walking, and generally enjoying their time here at Hikari Park.

“ _Okay, I give! I give! Uncle!_ ” An all-too-familiar voice made him turn around, and he nearly laughed at the sight of his younger self being pinned down on his front with his arms behind his back by Tenshi, who sat triumphantly on his back. The blue-haired girl smirked in satisfaction and released her grip on his wrists before jumping off of him.

The image of the younger Yamcha quickly pulled himself up to his feet, dirt and grass stains covering the front of his shirt and shorts. He huffed and narrowed his onyx eyes into a glare at the image of Tenshi, who had begun to walk over to the apple tree. But it seemed that he couldn’t stay mad for long, as his annoyance was eventually replaced with a small smile as he followed her.

It…It was all starting to return to him. Tenshi…she had been the one who got Yamcha into martial arts in the first place. They would watch various martial arts movies and even the Tenkaichi Budokai together whenever it was on TV. It was something the two of them had bonded over. They would even have sparring matches from time to time. Tenshi, proudly dubbing herself the ‘tough girl’, and earning that title in Yamcha’s opinion, had managed to beat him up and win their little scuffles _every single time_. Yamcha chuckled under his breath as he remembered making it his personal mission to one day beat Tenshi in a fight.

Tenshi had climbed up the tree and picked two of the red apples, placing one in her overalls pocket while she held the other in one hand. She jumped down from the branch she was on, landing on the grass with ease and holding up the apple in her hand to the younger Yamcha, offering it with a grin. The younger Yamcha looked happy as he took the apple from her hand, the two of them then sitting at the base of the tree together. Tenshi pulled out the apple from her pocket, and the two of them bit into their fruits, seeming to enjoy the sweet taste they provided.

This had been a little ‘tradition’ for them, Yamcha remembered as he watched this unfold. They would run around, play and spar in this park, and once they had either exhausted themselves or were satisfied, they would sit underneath the apple tree and enjoys its fruits together. And then, once they were done…

The images of Tenshi and the younger Yamcha finished up their apples, which were nothing more than cores now, then silently glanced at each other, both of them still smiling as they picked themselves up and walked over to the dock. It was usually occupied by people either fishing, using it to dive into the lake, or to simply sit on the edge and relax, but it was thankfully empty at the moment. The duo made it to the edge of the dock and simultaneously chucked their apple cores. Once they were done, they would always throw the cores to see who had the better throwing arm.

The cores soared through the air for several seconds before splashing into the waters. It was a bit difficult to tell from this distance, but they could both tell that Yamcha’s core had gone slightly further. The little black-haired boy grinned as he let out a noise of jubilation, while Tenshi’s blue eyes narrowed into side-eyed glare at him. The younger Yamcha looked at the blue-haired girl as she sat down on the edge of the dock, staring off into space, then his face lit up as if an idea had struck him.

The younger Yamcha turned and ran back to the tree. Tenshi stared after him with a confused look on her face. Yamcha watched as his younger self climbed up the tree and picked one of the apples, landing back on the ground and running back to Tenshi, who he sat right next to on the dock’s edge and held up the apple to her.

Tenshi blinked in surprise, but smiled warmly as she took the apple and held it in her hands, her cheeks now dusted pink. Then, surprising both Yamcha and his younger self, she leaned over and pressed a kiss against his tan cheek. The younger Yamcha’s face immediately turned as red as the apple, his dark eyes widening and he froze in place. Tenshi giggled softly at his reaction and bit into the sweet fruit.

The colors and images faded away, giving way to the cold, gray and foggy world once more. Yamcha couldn’t take his eyes off of the spot where the images of his younger self and Tenshi had sat. He had a crush on Tenshi when they were kids. He remembered now.

Hold on. Yamcha frowned as a new thought crept into his mind. Did he…Did he fall in love with Bulma…because she reminded him of Tenshi?

No. Yamcha shook the ridiculous thought from his head. Maybe their similarities had initially attracted him to Bulma—his mind clearly hadn’t remembered Tenshi, but it seemed that his eyes did—but he loved his wife for who she was. Underneath her temperament and everything else was a tender, loving spirit and a heart of gold, and Yamcha loved all of her, even her flaws.

Smiling at both the memories and the thought of his beautiful wife, Yamcha walked over to the tree, simply reaching up and picking one of the apples. He hadn’t eaten breakfast yet, after all, the mild pangs of hunger beginning to hit his stomach. He bit into the apple, savoring its sweet taste as the juices poured into his mouth, and walked to the dock. He finished his treat to the core as he made it to the edge; he knew the core would go flying for several hundred miles and probably burn up like a meteor entering Earth’s atmosphere if he chucked it as hard as he could, so he instead chose to simply toss it into the lake, landing in the waters several yards away with a splash that sent ripples on the previously still waters and floating on the surface.

The music box suddenly came to life, playing its soft tune inside the messenger bag. Yamcha paused and looked down at the bag. What was that about?

No sooner had the question entered his mind when something suddenly moved beneath the water, sending ripples across the lake and effortlessly snatching up Yamcha’s attention. A few bubbles began to slowly surface and pop in one small area, as if someone was underwater and slowly breathing out. Then, the bubbles moved. The source was moving, or rather swimming, and heading towards the apple core. And the moment the bubbles reached the floating core, something suddenly pulled it into the waters with shocking speed, the core nowhere to be seen.

Yamcha blinked at the sight. The bubbles remained there for a moment, then started to move again, this time towards the dock. More bubbles surfaced as the source moved, popping faster and with greater intensity. The music box’s volume increased, growing louder and louder as the bubbles drew closer and closer, and something about it sent chills down Yamcha’s spine, making him take a step backwards.

The furiously popping bubbles stopped just a foot away from the dock, the music box now louder than even, and the bubbles suddenly ceased. Yamcha stared down at the water. The bubbles had stopped, but the music box was still playing at full volume. For a moment, the world was silent apart from the music box, and nothing happened; all around him was still and calm.

The calmness was instantly shattered as a loud, wet, crackling _snap_ sounded behind Yamcha, making him jump and whip around. A large, bony, clawed hand had broken through the dock just a couple of feet behind him, having shot up directly from the water. Dark eyes widened at the sight, and Yamcha hurriedly jumped over it with ease, landing back on the grass several feet away. The sound of wooden snapping reached his ears the moment his feet touched the ground, and he turned in time to see something pulling itself up on the dock through the hole it made, effortlessly breaking the wood as it did so.

It took Yamcha a moment to realize that the thing was humanoid, looking to be nearly as tall as the ex-bandit. It was hairless and gray-skinned, lacking any facial features except for a mouth and eyes, the latter looking like they had been gouged out, and had no visible genitalia. The creature was bone-thin, nothing more than a skeleton with skin stretched over it, not a hint of muscle or fat in sight. Multiple bruises covered its soaked body. It only had its left arm, with the right arm looking as if it had been ripped off at the shoulder, leaving behind a stump with rotten scar tissue; the one hand that it had was enlarged and the fingers were long and claw-like. The mandible was missing as well, as if it had been ripped off like the arm, with dried blood running down the front of its neck; rotten teeth were displayed on the top jaw, and a raw, black tongue hung from what was left of its mouth.

Yamcha found himself frozen on the spot; his eyes were locked on the emaciated creature. But…But that didn’t make any sense! The siren hadn’t gone off again; the world wasn’t dark and gruesome. And…these monstrous creatures only came out when the world was like that…right?! It was starting to hurt his head. Just when he thought he was figuring out what was going on, everything was tossed out the window and he was back to square one.

A strained gurgling noise came from the creature as it limped towards him at a surprisingly quick speed. Yamcha found himself and backed away. Despite the consternation welling up inside of him, Yamcha curled his hands into fists, ready to fight back if this thing tried to attack him. No sooner had he done this than the creature suddenly spewed brownish bile in his direction. Yamcha quickly rushed out of the way, watching in shock as the bile hit the ground, bubbling and hissing as it melted the snow and turned the grass black the moment it touched it. If that had touched him…

The creature suddenly broke out into a sprint, quickly closing the distance between them despite its limp. The gurgling noise escaped it again as it drew closer. Thinking fast, Yamcha rushed forward and slammed a fist in the creature’s middle, eliciting a gurgling shriek from it as it was thrown back towards the water. Acidic bile was hurled into the air as it did so, which Yamcha quickly dodged as the creature fell into the lake with a splash.

“Knock it off!” Yamcha yelled, sweat beginning to drip down his brow despite the cold around him, his eyes never leaving the creature’s form in the water. Please let _this_ be an innocent, injured person. The ex-bandit desperately prayed that it wouldn’t end like the last encounter he had. “L-Look, if you need help, just tell me! Don’t attack me!”

Several long seconds passed, slowly turning into a few minutes, and the creature didn’t move once in that time, the waters becoming still around its form. Yamcha stared at it, starting to relax himself as he walked towards it, stopping just in front of the water’s edge. Did he…?

Yamcha swallowed a lump in his throat. Something told him that just couldn’t be the case. He tried to think back to what happened the last time this happened. And that’s when it hit him. He looked down at the messenger bag, the music box still playing its song at full volume. It was only quiet when—

He didn’t get the chance to finish his thought, as the creature suddenly shot up and raked its clawed hand at him. Yamcha jumped back and instinctively raised his left arm up to defend himself. Except he wasn’t quick enough, and he felt agony course through his left temple and forearm. Warm liquids trickled down the side of Yamcha’s head as he stumbled back for a moment.

The creature pulled itself back up to its feet and started to limp its way out of the water, the gurgling sound returning once again as blood dripped from its claws. Yamcha mentally chided himself. After what happened last time, he should’ve known better. “Fine,” he growled under his breath, narrowing his eyes as the creature drew closer. “You asked for it!” He cupped both hands to his side, a bright blue glow building between his palms. “Kamehameha!” he shouted, firing the chi beam at the creature. The attack hit its target dead on, slamming into the emaciated creature’s stomach and severing it in half.

Both halves of the creature flew back into the water, accompanied by a shower of bile that erupted from the creature’s body, splashing into the lake. Yamcha had to turn away, fighting back the urge to vomit at the sight. He despised this. He had always hated even the idea of killing. His mind kept telling him that these things weren’t human, that they were trying to kill him first, that it was on the verge of death anyways and he had just put it out of its misery. He honestly didn’t know what to think anymore, but one thing was becoming clear.

It was kill or be killed.

Just what had happened that caused the peaceful Kioku Town to twist into a nightmare?

Yamcha exhaled heavily as he slumped down to his knees in the snow. That’s when the pain of his injuries reared its ugly head up, blood dripping from his fingertips and staining the snow red. The scar-faced fighter groaned under his breath. At this point, he was just grateful for any kind of distraction from his racing thoughts. He inspected his left forearm first, finding that the white sleeve was now torn and bloodstained, allowing him to see the deep, red marks that the creature had left. Yamcha raised his right hand to his left temple, wincing as he placed pressure on the wound, and pulled it back to see red liquids coating his fingertips.

Yamcha placed his hand on his forearm in hopes that it would at least help with the bleeding. What he’d give for a Senzu bean right now. After a moment, Yamcha glanced down at the messenger bag. Now he understood. The music box was silent now, but…it had _warned_ him about those creatures. The ex-bandit still didn’t really understand how or why, but he was momentarily grateful for it.

Yamcha wasn’t sure how long he had stayed there—whether it was only a few minutes or several—before a strange, faint sound reached his ears. He paused and looked around. It was a soft hissing noise. It sounded like…static. He scanned the area, trying to figure out where it was coming from, but couldn’t identify the source.

The noise slowly but surely increased in volume; whatever made it was getting closer. In that time, the sound changed as well, becoming shrill and whirring, vaguely reminding him of radio static. Several more seconds passed before the music box suddenly sprung to life, playing its beautiful yet haunting melody again. Yamcha looked at the messenger bag with wide eyes before scanning the area around him, trying to locate whatever was making it play.

Approaching footsteps hit his ears, the music box growing louder as they drew closer. Yamcha stood back up. The familiar feeling of dread clawed at his gut…but something was different about this one. He couldn’t explain it, but something about this one sent chills down his spine in a way that the other two creatures hadn’t.

Movement out of the corner of his eye made Yamcha turn his head. There was another silhouette in the distance, except this one was much taller, easily towering over some of the nearby trees. It wasn’t too far away from him, looking to be coming towards him from the other side of the lake. The silhouette drew closer to him, and once it was close enough for Yamcha to make out its shape and appearance through the fog, he swore he felt his heart stop for a second when he recognized it.

The creature was easily forty feet tall, _at least_. Similar to the last monster, it was bone-thin with the skin stretched over it, except this creature had dried, mummified skin that was the color of rusty metal; silver wires stuck out in several areas of its body, almost as if they had been crudely stitched in. Its arms were as long as the length of its body, its fingertips reaching past its knees. Most notably of all, instead of a normal neck and head, the creature had what looked a pole fused into its body with a pair of dark, bloodstained megaphone speakers where the head should be.

Oh Kami…

The ex-bandit normally would’ve been more than ready to fight back. But right now, every fiber in Yamcha’s being was screaming at him to run. Only thing was…he couldn’t. He tried to run, but it felt as if his body was paralyzed. His limbs wouldn’t respond to his commands, almost as if invisible chains held him in place as he stared at the creature in pure, unadulterated horror.

The music box grew louder with each thudding step the creature took, growing closer as the snow crunched beneath its feet. The hissing of static coming from its speakers started to change as well, morphing into a low humming noise accompanied by what sounded like whispering voices played backwards, only furthering to unnerve Yamcha.

A few more seconds that dragged on much longer than Yamcha would’ve liked continued before the creature came to halt. His eyes never left the creature as it slowly turned its ‘head’, as if scanning the area. It was several yards away, much too close for Yamcha’s liking as it towered over him. He practically held his breath as his heart pounded in his chest, silently praying that it wouldn’t notice him, that it would turn around and walk away—preferably sooner than later.

“KYAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!”

A shrill, bloodcurdling scream erupted from Siren Head’s speakers, forcing Yamcha to cover his ears as it practically shook the air around him. But as if that scream had flipped a switch, adrenaline shot through Yamcha’s veins, and the second the screaming cease, he turned and bolted as quickly as he could.

He could hear Siren Head give chase, the thundering footsteps behind him telling him everything he needed to know, though he didn’t dare look back. The grass and dirt soon gave way to the concrete and asphalt of Kioku Town, but Yamcha barely noticed this as he ran. He managed to put a bit of distance between himself and the monstrous creature, but it did little to ease his nerves. A deafening alarm blared from Siren Head’s speakers, echoing throughout the town as he continued to run.

To hell with this town. Yamcha had no idea what was going on or what had happened to the town, but it didn’t matter anymore. It was no wonder he couldn’t feel any chi in this town. Sencha and Tenshi weren’t here. And why would they be? Everything here had tried to kill him, so of course they wouldn’t be here! He momentarily forgot about his desire to see his sister and childhood friend, wanting nothing more than to get out of this place. All he needed to do was find the entrance he came through and—

Yamcha’s thoughts were cut off for what felt like the umpteenth time as he raced down the road past several shops and establishments, and a shape in the fog came into view. It didn’t take him long to get close enough to make out what it was. And just like with the last three, he didn’t like what he saw.

The creature looked to be a naked, feminine human torso and long legs, its entire being covered in what looked like putrid skin. It lacked any arms, shoulders, neck or head, looking like someone had removed and replaced them with another pair of legs. The top pair of legs lacked feet, and Yamcha watched as it rubbed its upper legs together like an insect would do with its mandibles as it slowly walked down the street. And sure enough, the music box continued to play at full volume as he drew closer to it.

It took everything in Yamcha’s willpower not to scream out his frustrations at the top of his lungs. He _really_ didn’t want to deal with another creature right now. He silently debated flying out of here, but almost immediately scrapped that idea. Siren Head was still right behind him, and there was no doubt in his mind that it would catch up to him before he could get very far in the air.

Thinking fast, Yamcha looked around for anywhere to hide. He hated sounding like a coward in his own thoughts, but just the mere thought of trying to fight against Siren Head petrified him to his core—he had no idea why; the feeling was just _there_ —and he wasn’t about to argue with his instincts. His eyes finally fell on an opening in a nearby shop, the door and part of the windows looking as if they had been blown out, leaving only the metal framing.

Yamcha didn’t think twice about turning himself and bolting into the store’s opening, taking care to jump over the shards of glass and broken boards on the floor and getting to a safe distance from the opening before he finally stopped. The ex-bandit inhaled deeply and silently to calm is nerves.

By now, he was starting to become more aware of his surroundings. He looked up and around, realizing that he wasn’t in a shop. Rather, he was in a diner. Beneath all the dust and decay, Yamcha could easily tell that this was once a retro-style diner. A now filthy and cracked black-and-white checkered pattern covered the floor, the blue paint on the walls was faded and chipped away, old red leather covered the booths and chairs and bar stools, and neon lights that probably once glowed a pinkish-red color had been burnt out a long time ago.

Nostalgia flooded Yamcha as he realized this, drowning out his previous fear and confusion, and he understood why as a new realization surfaced. This was Amai’s Diner. It was where he and his family would go out to eat every Saturday.

Light and color flooded his vision again. Another memory. The sounds of Siren Head and the music box faded away and were replaced with chattering and laughter. Before his eyes, the diner looked clean and alive again, full of the ghostly images of people as they chatted and laughed, enjoying their lunches.

Yamcha looked around, hoping to find the images of his family. It didn’t take long, as he spotted them at a nearby table—three adults and three children. His younger self, Sencha and Tenshi were there. And he immediately recognized all three adults.

One of them was a tall, muscular man with tan skin, choppy dark brown hair that ended at his shoulders, onyx-black eyes, a goatee, and dressed in a black tank top, tan cargo pants, and brown-gray boots. And most notably, his facial features were identical to the little boy sitting next to him. Chawan, the father of Yamcha and Sencha.

The woman sitting next to him was beautiful, possessing fair skin, wavy reddish-orange hair that ended at her midback, deep green eyes, and wearing a green sundress and white sandals. Fukusa, the mother of Yamcha and Sencha.

And finally, the third adult at the table was a middle-aged woman. She had porcelain skin, smooth black hair with a few gray streaks that was tied into a low ponytail, warm brown eyes, and dressed in a white blouse, blue jeans, brown sandals, and a silver locket around her neck. Ochako, Chawan’s mother and the woman that Yamcha had inherited his black hair from.

The family of six were clearly having a good time, smiling and laughing as they talked and waited for their orders to be taken. Yamcha couldn’t help but smile at the sight.

“ _Welcome to the diner! Have you decided what you’d like today?_ ” A feminine voice asked cheerfully, and the family and Yamcha turned to the source. An older woman was standing at the end of their table, giving each of them a warm smile. She was quite thin and tall, easily standing at Yamcha’s own six-foot height. She had milky skin, crimson-red hair with a few silver streaks that was tied into a low ponytail ended at her hips, brown eyes, and she was wearing a short-sleeved black dress with a frilly white apron over it and white sneakers.

Yamcha blinked as he recognized her. It was Amai, the owner of the restaurant and one of the best cooks in Kioku Town. Now he remembered. She had personally served his family many times. The images faded away, leaving behind the dilapidated diner. A loud shriek, sounding as if it had been blasted from a megaphone, snapped him back to reality. Yamcha whipped around in time to see that Siren Head had stopped outside of the diner and snatched up the other creature in its large, bony hand.

Yamcha couldn’t see what it was doing as it lifted the squirming creature up, but the action was followed by a shrill blaring of an alarm, forcing Yamcha to cover his ears. There was a squelching _snap_ , and large splashes of blood fell onto the snowy ground, staining it red. The body of the creature fell to the ground a moment later with a sickening _thud_ , unmoving and silent.

The scar-faced warrior felt the color drain from his face, slapping a hand over his mouth to prevent any sound from escaping. Outside, Siren Head stayed in place for another minute or so, whirring radio static playing from its speakers, as if silently contemplating what it should do next. Yamcha stayed as still and silent as possible as he watched Siren Head’s legs from inside the diner, praying that it would just leave already!

Finally, it seemed that his prayers were answered, as a moment or so later, Siren Head slowly began to walk away, leaving the corpse of the other creature in the screen, and the music box began to quiet down. Relief flooded Yamcha, and at that moment, he looked around the diner again, the memories of this place coming back to him. It made him smile. He and his family had come here more times than he could count, and the food was always amazing. Yamcha wished he could have Amai’s famous Everything Burger and sweet chocolate-raspberry lava cake again.

The moment that thought entered his mind, however, his smile fell as the familiar feeling of nausea threatened to overwhelm him. He swallowed heavily, confusion brewing within him for the umpteenth time. Where…Where had that come from?

Dread started to pool in his stomach again, and Yamcha instinctively took a step backwards. It didn’t register how much of a mistake this was until his foot came in contact with a shard of glass on the floor, shattering it into tiny pieces with a surprisingly loud _crack._

The sound of Siren Head’s footsteps immediately halted, and Yamcha’s blood turned to ice. He mentally cursed himself and was ready to book it to the entrance and run to another part of town—maybe then he could escape this damned town—but quicker than he could blink, Siren Head rushed back to the diner’s entrance and reached inside at break-neck speeds. Siren Head’s enormous, bony hand engulfed his entire being and yanked him outside before he had a chance to properly react.

Siren Head’s grip was unyielding, constricting Yamcha, and it began to feel hard to breath. The ex-bandit could hear his heart rapidly beating in his ears. The fear he felt earlier had come back with a vengeance and seemed to paralyze him, his limbs not responding to any of his commands. All he could do was stare at this creature, his pupils becoming little more than slits at this point. Siren Head lifted him up in the air, refusing to loosen its grip as Yamcha became eye-level with its speakers. The music box was playing its song at full volume.

Even though the creature had no eyes, Yamcha swore it was looking directly at him as it held him up. He was just waiting for Siren Head to do whatever it had done to the other creature minutes before, waiting for the inevitable agony to coarse through his nerves and the warm feeling of blood escaping his body. He had already died once before, he knew exactly what death felt like, and he was just waiting for it to come back to him.

Except it never came.

The shrill, whirring static from before sounded from Siren Head’s speakers, seeming to echo throughout the entire town. “ _Yam…I’m…e…Come to…cha…ting for…id you k…Yam…_ ” A voice sounded from the speakers, but was constantly getting caught off by the static, making it impossible to tell what they were trying to say.

What…?

“KYAAAAAH!” Yamcha barely had a moment to process this before another shriek erupted from Siren Head’s speakers. Pain practically exploded in Yamcha’s mind, forcing him to shut his eyes. He desperately wished he could place his hands to his ears and head, but instead he was forced to will away the pain as best as he could.

The scream was barely even over before he suddenly felt Siren Head pull his arm back and chuck him away as hard as he could. He soared through empty air for not even a second before he colliding into something. Agony pulsated through his body as he crashed through what felt like several layers of debris, the sounds of crunching and snapping roaring in his ears. The feeling of something warm practically exploding accompanied by another burst of agony all over was the last thing he felt before he blacked out.

* * *

_We won't just fall away_

_We weren't just born to fade_

_Our stories are past the horizon_

_We're chasing the sun till we find them_

_Goodbye to what we made_

_No matter anyway_

_We're climbing until we transcend_

_Higher, higher to where the skies end_


	4. Interlude 1 - Everglow

**Interlude 1 – Everglow**

* * *

_You come in waves_

_Till you're all I know_

_Then you fade away_

_Into nothing_

_Weighed down by dark matter inside_

_You leave me frozen_

_You leave me frozen in time_

* * *

There were a lot of people here. A three-year-old Yamcha hugged his teddy bear tightly to his chest, nervously glancing around at all the people—both grownups and other kids—in and around the schoolhouse. A lot of the children were running around, laughing and playing together, but Yamcha was hesitant to approach any of them, shyly staying by his sister and parents’ sides.

Simply put: he didn’t like being around so many unfamiliar faces.

“This is where you two will go to preschool in a few months,” Chawan said, giving the twins a reassuring smile, as if he had sensed Yamcha’s nervousness. Sencha, for her part, looked more curious than anything.

“I don’t like it,” Yamcha mumbled out, trying to bury his face in his favorite toy’s material. He just wanted to go home. He didn’t want to be around so many people.

“It’s okay, sweetheart,” Fukusa said in a gentle voice, kneeling next to her son and putting a hand on his shoulder, prompting him to glance up at her. “I know it can be a bit scary at first, but trust me. There’ll be a lot of other kids you can make friends with.”

“I don’t wanna!” The black-haired boy argued back, returning his face to the teddy. Fukusa simply gave him a sympathetic smile, rubbing his upper back in a comforting manner.

It was sign-up day for preschool here in Kioku Town, which would be starting in only two months. Like many of the parents here, Fukusa and Chawan had opted to bring their children to the sign-up, hoping to give the twins an idea of what the school would be like and who their classmates would be.

Sencha had always been the bolder of the two, though she preferred to spend her time with picture books instead of other kids. Yamcha, on the other hand, was the shy one, always hiding behind his parents in the presence of strangers and usually staying with his sister.

Their parents were quietly hoping that preschool would bring the two of them out of their shells and improve their social skills, and maybe even let them develop a few friendships along the way.

**OoOoOoO**

Once the family of four had entered the building, they were introduced to the teacher, an older woman named Mrs. Kyoshi. And while the adults focused in the required paperwork, Yamcha and Sencha were sent outside to the playground area with the other kids.

A stark contrast to the other children, who were either running around or playing on the playground equipment with each other, Yamcha and Sencha had opted to sit up against the nearby fence, huddled together as they tried to ignore everyone else around them.

“I wanna go home,” Yamcha whined out, still clutching the teddy bear as he drew his legs close to his chest. He hated being around so many strangers.

“Me, too,” Sencha grumbled out, just as unhappy about this as her brother. She wanted to go back to her cartoons and picture books. Besides, the other kids were too loud; always screaming at the top of their lungs in excitement, it made her ears hurt.

The brunette looked up. Mrs. Kyoshi had told them about a snack table that had been placed on one end of the playground, where the children could grab something to snack on between playing and waiting for the parents. She squinted her green eyes at it. From the distance, it looked like the table was covered in several plates holding snacks—slices of bananas, apples and oranges were there, but it looked to be mostly sweets, particularly cookies and brownies.

Sencha looked back at her brother. They had always looked out for each other, as far as their young minds could remember. They always hated it whenever the other wasn’t smiling and laughing, and would do whatever they could to cheer each other up. The chestnut-haired girl looked back over at the snacks table, and not a moment later, you could’ve seen a lightbulb appear over her head.

“I’ll be right back,” Sencha told her brother. Yamcha lifted his head to watch her stand up and dash across the playground, heading straight for the snacks table.

Even though she promised she’d be back, Yamcha felt his nervousness amplify and become accompanied by a feeling of loneliness. His sister was really the only one he liked to stay with. It only made him squeeze his favorite toy even tighter than before, if that was even possible.

As he waited, Yamcha took the opportunity to really look around for the first time, watching the other children from his spot. When he turned his head slightly to the right to get a better look, he paused as his eyes landed on a spot of blue.

There was another girl sitting against the fence as well, not too far from him. She looked to be a bit older than the other children, and similar to him, she refused to look at or interact with anyone. Her messy hair was aqua-blue and tied into a ponytail, and her dress was covered in dirt and grass stains.

Yamcha couldn’t help but tilt his head slightly when he looked at her. She looked...lonely…He didn’t know how else to describe it…

The sound of approaching footsteps made the black-haired boy look up, seeing Sencha walk back up to him, a smile appearing on her face. “Here,” she said, handing him one of the two cookies she had. Mommy’s cookies had always managed to cheer him up, so maybe these would work, too.

Yamcha smiled and accepted the treat from his twin. But just as he was about to take a bite out of it, he hesitated and looked up at the blue-haired girl again. He could feel a knot forming in his stomach. As much as he wanted to go home, he didn’t like how lonely she looked.

He stood back up, still holding his bear and the uneaten cookie as he walked away from Sencha, who watched him in surprise and confusion. He made his way over to the blue-haired girl, who raised her head to look at him once he was close enough.

The girl had big, pretty blue eyes. It was the first thing that Yamcha noticed. The expression on her face was one of disconcertion. “Can…I help you?” she asked hesitantly.

Yamcha found himself unable to answer for a moment, glancing away from her shyly before he found his voice. “I…I just wanted to give you this!” he said quickly, closing his eyes as he thrust the cookie in her direction.

“Oh, uh…T-Thanks…” the girl sounded a bit flustered. Yamcha reopened his eyes just as she took the cookie from his hands, her blue eyes scanning it with an unreadable expression. She frowned and looked back up at him. “What’s this for?”

“Huh?” Yamcha asked in confusion.

The girl narrowed her eyes at him. “Don’t play games with me!” she hissed, her voice suddenly embittered. “What, does it have something in it that’s disgusting or will make me sick?!”

“No!” Yamcha exclaimed, feeling his eyes starting to water in frustration. He didn’t understand. He just wanted to be nice!

The girl looked like she didn’t believe him. Then, she broke the cookie in half, and held up one of the halves. “If it’s so good, then you eat it first!”

“Okay!” Yamcha exclaimed out, timidly taking it from her. If it got her to stop yelling, then he’d do it. He brought the treat to his mouth and bit into it. It was sweet and soft, and even thought it wasn’t as good as his mother’s cookies, it was still delicious.

It wasn’t until he swallowed the mouthful of cookie that the hostile look on the girl’s face finally disappeared. Instead, it was replaced with a mix of surprise and rue. She looked back down at her half of the cookie and hesitantly nibbled on it.

The girl quickly finished off her half, refusing to meet Yamcha’s eyes. “I…I’m sorry…” she said quietly, pulling her knees up to her chest.

Yamcha smiled at her. “It’s okay,” he said, sitting down next to her. This prompted the girl to look up, her blue eyes meeting his dark orbs. After a moment, his smile disappeared as he asked, “Was someone being mean to you?”

The girl looked hesitant to answer, but after a minute or so, she sighed softly. “Yeah,” she said, her voice still quiet. “Some of the other kids like to pick on me. They…They said I’m not good enough…”

“Why?” Yamcha asked, titling his head in confusion. “You don’t seem like a bad person.”

The girl smiled at his words, though it vanished again. “Well…I don’t have parents like them…” She bit her lip, tears starting to form in her blue eyes. “They said that my parents didn’t want me, that I wasn’t good enough, and that’s why I don’t have any…” Her hands curled up into fists. “They think it’s funny to push me around, and trick me into eating nasty snacks, and call me names, and…and…”

She trailed off, her voice starting to crack. She sniffled and fought the tears back. A moment later, she felt a hand on her shoulder, and looked back up to at Yamcha. “Well, my Mommy says that bullies are just angry with themselves. It doesn’t matter if you have parents or not. They’re just doing it to be mean.” His smile returned. “And besides, who cares what they think? I think you’re a good person!”

The girl’s cheeks turned pink, her eyes widening as she stared at him. She looked shocked at his words, as if she were hearing them for the first time. Then, a tender smile made its way to her face, the tears still brimming in her blue eyes.

“Yamcha!”

The pair looked up at the sudden voice, seeing that Sencha had made her way over to her twin, a confused yet curious look on her face. She looked between her brother and the blue-haired girl. Yamcha had never gone to anyone else before, always staying with Sencha and their parents, so why had he run off like that?

Yamcha’s smile never faltered. “Hey, Sencha,” he greeted cheerfully.

“Yamcha?” The blue-haired girl echoed, drawing the twins’ attention back to her. “That’s your name?”

“Yeah,” the boy said. “What’s yours?”

The girl was silent for a few seconds, then quietly responded with, “Tenshi. My name is Tenshi.”

“Tenshi,” Yamcha repeated the name. “I think that’s a nice name.”

Tenshi’s cheeks went from pink to a light shade of red. Sencha, meanwhile, couldn’t help but smile. It looked like she and her brother had a new friend.

“I’m Sencha,” the brunette introduced herself. “Yamcha’s my brother.”

“Nice to meet you,” Tenshi replied.

“Will you be going to preschool with us?” Sencha asked, and Yamcha looked intrigued.

“Oh, no,” Tenshi said, shaking her head slightly. “I’m too old for preschool. I’ll be starting first grade soon. Mrs. Kyoshi just lets me hang out here.”

“Oh,” Sencha said. Yamcha looked disappointed, lowering his head slightly. Tenshi no doubt noticed this, based on what she said next.

“But we can still play when our lessons are done.” Yamcha looked back up, his smile returning to his face.

“Yeah!” He exclaimed happily, prompting Tenshi to smile in return.

“Ooh, can we play a game _now_?” Sencha asked in excitement.

“Yeah,” Tenshi said. “And I think I know a great one to play!”

**OoOoOoO**

“So, we just count to twelve and try to find you? Kinda like hide and seek?” Yamcha asked. The three children had found themselves standing in one of the playground’s corners, with the twins listening closely as Tenshi explained the rules of a new game.

“Yep,” Tenshi nodded. “And remember: you can’t open your eyes until you get to midnight.” She paused to giggle excitedly. “You ready?”

Yamcha and Sencha both nodded. The twins covered their eyes and counted out loud in unison as Tenshi ran off. “One o’clock…Two o’clock…Three o’clock…”

Tenshi made her way over to the first hiding spot she could think of: behind the slide. She giggled into her hands as she ran past the other rowdy kids and crouched down in her hiding spot. This was going to be so much fun!

“Eleven o’clock…Midnight!” The twins uncovered their eyes, grinning as they exclaimed together, “Starlight, star bright! I hope I don’t see a ghost tonight!”

Yamcha and Sencha broke off, dashing around the playground in opposite directions to look for their new friend. Tenshi was able to peek from around the slide, seeing the two of them look for her. Just as she did so, one of the other boys, who was much bigger than Yamcha and had previously been running amok around the playground, suddenly changed directions when he spotted the sprinting black-haired boy. Tenshi watched in surprise as the bigger boy slammed into Yamcha, knocking him down with a surprised cry, and snatched the teddy bear and bolted again.

“Teddy!” Yamcha yelled out as he pulled himself up, tears forming in the three-year-old’s dark eyes.

The other boy laughed and had a smug grin on his face as he ran, holding the bear up like it was a prize. He didn’t get very far, however, as Tenshi swiftly jumped out of her hiding spot once the boy was close enough and punched him in the face.

The boy fell to the ground, a mix of bewilderment and pain on his face, and Tenshi yanked the stuffed animal from him before he could do anything else. “Don’t be mean to him!” she snapped.

The sound of approaching footsteps made her look to see Yamcha rushing over to her. His clothes were covered in dirt and grass stains, and tears still brimmed in his eyes, but he wiped them away and smiled as he stopped next to the blue-haired girl and quickly tapped her arm. “Ghost in the graveyard!”

Tenshi blinked, then laughed lightly. The bigger boy quickly scrambled away, blubbering and holding his now bloody nose. Tenshi handed the teddy bear back to Yamcha, who hugged it tightly again. Then, he looked back up at Tenshi. “That was really cool! You were really fast, and you’re strong! How did you do that?”

Tenshi’s smile turned to a confident smirk. “Don’t you know? That was martial arts.”

“Martial arts?” Yamcha echoed. Those words were new to him.

“Yeah,” Tenshi replied. “Y’know, fighting. Like they do in movies!” She then kicked and punched the air next to her, each accompanied by an exaggerated ‘ _Ha!’_ sound. “And one day, I’m gonna be the best martial artist in the world!”

You could practically see stars in Yamcha’s eyes as he stared at her in awe. “Wow!” He cried out. “That’s awesome! Can I do it, too?”

Tenshi giggled again. “Sure, but I hope you’re okay with second place!”

“Nu-uh! I’m gonna be number one!”

“You didn’t even know what martial arts was a minute ago!”

By the time, Sencha had seen what had happened and arrived at the duo’s side. She was glad that Tenshi had punched that bully. No one makes her brother cry and gets away with it!

The three of them decided to restart their game, and were having fun playing more than a few rounds when the number of children in the playground started to dwindle. And it wasn’t long before…

“Yamcha! Sencha!”

The twins stopped their running and looked up to see their parents standing outside the schoolhouse doorway, and didn’t hesitate to run toward them.

“Look at you two, you’re such a mess,” Fukusa laughed out as she lifted Yamcha into her arms, while Chawan did the same with Sencha. “Did you have fun?”

“Uh-huh!” Yamcha nodded happily. “We made a new friend!”

“Do you?” Chawan asked. “Who was it?”

“Her!” Sencha said, turning herself in her father’s arms to point to the blue-haired girl, who was stopped running as well and smiled when the parents’ eyes landed on her. “Her name is Tenshi. She’s a lot of fun!”

“Sounds like you had a good time,” Fukusa said. “But I’m afraid it’s time to go home.”

“Aww!” the twins both whined out, but chose not to argue as their parents started to walk away. Yamcha, however, still looked over his mother’s shoulder and waved to Tenshi. The blue-haired girl was still smiling as she waved back until the family was out of sight.

It truly was the beginning of a beautiful friendship.

* * *

_Everglow_

_You'll never know_

_The beauty I see when you open your shadows_

_Everglow_

_They'll never know_

_The worlds that I see in the darkness you don't show_


	5. Perfect Machine (Part 1)

**Chapter 4: Perfect Machine (Part 1)**

* * *

_Even you know, even you know_

_This was all for nothing_

_Just a sad show, just an ego_

_I suppose though, as far as I know_

_We were both pretending_

_I suppose so, but what do I know?_

* * *

_There was an ivory tower in front of him._

_The world all around seemed to have a film placed over it, looking as if a white fog covered everything in sight. He could see nothing else except the tower._

_Curious, he walked forward, and upon a closer inspection, it wasn’t an ivory tower. Rather, it was a clock tower. It had been built with bricks that had been painted over to give it an ivory appearance, though the white paint was faded and had begun to chip away. Vivid green plants had grown along the base of the clock tower, vines snaking up the sides and vaguely reminding him of veins. A single brown, wooden door with a golden knob served as the entrance to the tower._

_He slowly looked upwards. The clock at the top was little more than a gray circle with a black outline and Roman numerals, complete with golden hands, though they looked as faded as the white paint on the bricks. The little hand was currently on the twelfth number, while the big hand was on the eleventh number. Just five minutes before it struck twelve and the bell would ring._

_He walked forward, closing the distance between him and the door, and that’s when he noticed that something was written on the side of the tower, rather close to the door. The words themselves were jagged and black, standing out on the white paint; the words were dripping, as if they had just been painted there mere minutes before._

**_‘WATCH OUT. THE GAP IN THE DOOR…_ **

**_IT’S A SEPARATE REALITY_ **

**_THE ONLY ME IS ME_ **

**_ARE YOU SURE THE ONLY YOU IS YOU?’_ **

_He stared at the jagged black words in confusion. He had no idea what they meant, though an ominous feeling began to creep in. He shook the thoughts from his head a second later. He was probably just being ridiculous. Nevertheless, he grabbed the knob and twisted it, opening the door with a satisfying_ click _and walking inside the clock tower._

_The inside was…admittedly not that impressive. The area was dimly lit by a few gas lamps on the brick walls, which were actually the reddish-brown color they were supposed to be. The wooden floors were clearly aged and well overdue for a repair, with some sections coated in grime and a thick layer of dust and dirt. A single staircase, composed of rusted-up black metal, was attached to the wall and spiraled its way upwards into the tower._

_He took a few steps forward, hearing the wooden planks creak beneath him, and nearly jumped out of his skin as he heard the door suddenly slam shut behind him. He turned and tried to open it up, only to discover that it was locked when he tried to turn the knob. He growled under his breath and banged a fist against the door. Great, just what he needed._

_“What are you so mad about? It’s just a door.”_

_A youthful voice reached his ears, and he turned and looked down, finding a young boy standing just a few feet behind him. He looked to be around ten years old, and as he looked the boy up and down, he couldn’t help but get the feeling that he seemed oddly familiar. The boy had tan skin, choppy black hair that reached his shoulders, big black eyes, and was dressed in a traditional black Chinese shirt with two gray pins buttoning it up from his chest to the collar, the top one currently undone, and elbow-length sleeves with white cuffs, blue pants, a white sash tied around his waist, and he was barefoot. In his arms was cute brown teddy bear with a blue ribbon tied around its neck, looking to be a bit worn out with age._

_The child cocked his head to the side, giving him a confused look. “I’ve never seen you here before,” he said. “Who are you, anyways?”_

_He blinked. Where had this child come from? He certainly hadn’t seen him when he first walked in. Or maybe he did and he didn’t quite register it? His mind was feeling a bit fuzzy right now, so it wasn’t out of the question._

_“I…” He started to say before pausing with a slight frown. What…What_ was _his name? Who was he? He wracked his brain for any kind of answer, but came up with nothing. Why couldn’t he remember his own name? Come to think of it…he couldn’t remember_ anything _before stumbling upon this tower. “I don’t know…” he said quietly._

_The child didn’t look surprised at his statement, though the confusion still remained on his face. “It’s just weird,” he said, still holding his teddy bear to his chest. “No one’s ever really come in here before.”_

_He couldn’t hide his surprise at the boy’s words. But before he could say anything, the child added on, “Everyone calls me ‘Chibi’, by the way.”_

_Chibi…Why did that name sound so familiar?_

_He tore his gaze away from the child and looked towards the rust-coated stairs. Chibi followed his eyes for a moment, then looked back up at him. “Are you planning on going up there?” he asked._

_“I…I guess so…” he responded. He looked up a little further and saw that the stairs led to another floor several feet above them, looking to be made of the same worn-out wood he was standing on. “How many stories does this tower have?”_

_“Three,” Chibi said. “We’re on the first one right now. The third one has the bell and the clock, but I never go on that one.”_

_He gave Chibi a confused look, but chose not to question it. He turned towards the stairs and walked over to them. The sound of soft footsteps followed him, and he looked over his shoulder to see that Chibi was walking after him. He gave the kid a small grin. Chibi had said that no one had come in here before him, so maybe he just wanted some company._

_As soon as he stepped onto the first metal stair, it let out a loud, rusty groan, making him think it was going to snap under his weight. To his surprise, it remained intact. “What’s the big deal?” Chibi asked impatiently, pushing past him and climbing the stairs himself. Each step groaned beneath his feet, but that was all they did. “They’re just stairs,” he said, glancing over his shoulder once as he drew closer to the second story._

_He inwardly rolled his eyes and followed after the boy, thankful that the stairs didn’t collapse on themselves, even though they looked like they were ready to at any given moments. He made it up to the second story within seconds, and when he stepped onto the wooden floor, he found himself freezing in his tracks when he got a good look around._

_The second story was nearly identical to the first—rotten wood flooring, reddish-brown brick walls with gas lamps hanging on them, and the same rusty staircase that led to the third story. But now, the walls and floor were caked in blood, looking to be somewhat fresh. A flash of color caught his eye, and he looked up to see a red glow emitting from the entrance to the third story._

_He could only gape at the room around him for a minute or so, an unnerving feeling flowing through him. When he finally managed to snap himself out of his shock, he turned to look at Chibi. If he had been expecting the boy to look scared or even on the verge of crying, he would’ve been sorely disappointed. Chibi merely gave the room a nonchalant look, his expression eerily calm._

_“What…happened here?” His question was barely above a whisper, though it seemed that Chibi heard him loud and clear, as he turned to face him._

_“I have no idea,” the child said. “This floor wasn’t accessible until a few days ago. I’ve never been up here until then.”_

_He sent a baffled look in Chibi’s direction. Was that true? Had he really been trapped in that first story for who knows how long? Just what_ was _this clock tower? And why was it like this?_

_He looked up at the red glow coming from the third story again. Chibi had said that that was the final story, the room containing the bell and the clock…But what else was up there?_

_He couldn’t explain it, but…It felt as if something was_ drawing him _up there, beckoning him to come and quench his thirst for this truth._

_Curiosity won and he started to walk towards the stairs again. But as soon as he did, all calmness left Chibi’s face as he rushed over towards him. “No, wait!” he cried out as he grabbed his arm tightly with one hand, surprising him at the sudden outburst. “Don’t go up there!”_

_“What? Why?” It was really all he could think to say right now._

_“Just don’t!” Chibi practically yelled, his grip on both the teddy bear and his arm practically white-knuckled at this point. And that’s when he saw it in the boy’s eyes: terror. “It’s not good up there!”_

_He frowned in confusion. “I thought you said you’ve never been up there.”_

_“I haven’t!” Chibi exclaimed as he tried to pull him away from the stairs, his voice crackling as if he were on the verge of crying. “But I know it’s bad! Just stay away from it! Please!”_

_Alright, that tugged at his heartstrings a little, he had to admit. Chibi sounded so adamant, as if he were truly looking after his own wellbeing. Maybe he should listen to Chibi. Maybe he shouldn’t go up there._

_But the moment that thought entered his mind, doubt and uneasiness began to creep in. He had no idea where it had come from. Something inside told him that he needed to check this out, that he needed to ignore Chibi’s pleas and press forward. Because if he didn’t, he just knew that he’d never forgive himself if he didn’t find out what was up there._

_He sighed softly. “I’m sorry, kid,” he said, managing to pull his arm away from the child, who stared at him with big, horrified eyes. He quickly looked away, not able to bear seeing a child look at him like that, and continued towards the stairs._

_“Stop!” Chibi cried out as he gave chase. “No!” But it was already too late, as he quickly made it to the metal stairs and was already making his way up the creaking steps. Chibi stopped just before he would’ve touched the stairs, and when he looked back over his shoulder for a second, he swore he saw tears forming in the boy’s dark eyes._

_No. He shook his head. He couldn’t let something like this distract him now. He turned his head back around and made his way up the groaning metal stairs without looking back._

_But when he made it to the third floor, he suddenly understood why Chibi didn’t want him to come up here._

_Just like the last two, the third story had the same brick walls and grimy floors. The clock was on the opposite side of the room, the hands now one minute away from striking twelve, and there was a large, gray, rusted bell hanging from the ceiling in the middle of the room. The entire room was lined with gas lanterns nailed to the brick wall, though the flames inside each of them were a vivid red color and glowed brightly, practically drowning the entire room in red. There were several large, round holes in the wall all around the room; each one was pitch-black, but a pale, foggy substance poured out of each of them and pooled onto the floor, giving the room a chilly look._

_But he hardly noticed any of this._

_Bodies were hanging all around the room from butcher’s hooks from the ceiling. Some of them were covered up with thin plastic wrapping, giving their forms a blurry appearance, though blood still pooled in and stained the plastic. The one that weren’t covered up, however…He gulped heavily. A lot of them had been skinned, showing the red-pink flesh and even the bones for a few underneath. A good portion of them had their limbs cut off and their guts spilling out through their sliced-open midsections. Blood coated almost the entire floor and had been splashed on the wall and bell, and the stench of rotting meat filled the air._

_What the hell…?_

_A shrieking noise, reminiscent of a pig squealing, sounded from the other side of the room, but was hidden from sight thanks to the bell. His eyes widened, and against his better judgement, his curiosity piqued again. Keeping as quiet as possible, he slowly walked forward, trying not to look at some of the bodies as he passed them. He drew close to the bell, feeling that he would probably need to hide from whatever was making the noise._

_Thudding footsteps, accompanied by the sound of something heavy being dragged against the floor, sounded from the same location. And when he drew close enough, still half-hiding behind the bell, that’s when he saw it._

_Three bodies were hung from butcher’s hooks in front of the clock. The one on the left was a mutilated, naked corpse, its black and red hair stained with blood and grime, and a limb red arm protruding from its face. The one on the right was an emaciated, gray-skinned corpse, stained with blood and missing some of its limbs. Both of them were motionless and silent, red liquids cascading down from what was left of their flesh._

_But the one in the middle…It was very much alive. It was a feminine human torso with putrid skin and a pair of feetless legs replacing its head and arms. It was hanging upside down from the butcher’s hook, having been tied to it by its ankles, and was thrashing violently, almost as if it were trying to escape._

_The footsteps and the dragging noise came again, and he watched as a masked man appeared from seemingly out of nowhere, dragging an enormous axe behind him as he slowly approaching the squirming creature. The man…There was something familiar about him._

_Without a moment of hesitation, the masked man gripped the axe’s handle with both hands and swung it at the creature, not even flinching as it was sliced into two at the waist and a shower of scarlet covered his front. The creature finally stopped moving. Horror pierced his very core as he watched this. Who was…How could he…?_

_The masked man made a noise of satisfaction, seeming to be pleased with his handiwork. He lowered the axe back to the ground with a thud that practically shook the whole tower, and turned around before he started walking towards the staircase. Thankfully, the masked man stayed on the other side of the bell, meaning he could stay hidden from him._

_But just as the masked man made it to the top of the metal stairs, axe still in hand and blood dripping from his front, he stopped himself. He blinked as he watched this, wondering what was going on when the masked man suddenly turned around. And even though there were no holes in that metal mask and he kept himself well hidden behind the bell, he swore that the masked man was staring straight at him._

_His blood turned to ice and he tensed up, desperately hoping that it wasn’t the case and that the masked man couldn’t see him. He wasn’t sure how long the two of them remained like this, neither of them daring to move or make any noise, before the masked man turned back around and slowly made his way down the stairs, the piercing shrieks of the axe against the metal echoing throughout the tower._

_He barely had a moment to breathe a sigh of relief before a realization struck him. He inhaled sharply. Chibi! He started to rush towards the stairs, not wanting anything to happen to the boy, but just as he neared the top of the stairs, movement caught his eye and made him grind to a halt. He turned and was greeted with the sight of Chibi standing in front of the three dead creatures, staring up at them as the middle one’s blood pooled at his feet._

_He blinked in surprise. When…When did he get up here? He shook his head and made his was over to the boy. Chibi turned at the sound of his approaching footsteps…and he couldn’t help but feel shocked as he got a good look at the boy._

_Chibi didn’t look hurt or scared at all. Instead, the boy looked oddly calm. There were splashes of blood all over him, though thankfully none of it was his own. He still held the teddy bear firmly in his grasp, but now the toy looked to be as bloody and grimy as the rest of the third floor. But his eyes…The boy looked so tired, his black eyes lacking the spark they previously had on the first and second floors._

_He tried to say something, but he couldn’t find anything to say to the boy, and everything his mind managed to grasp died on his lips. But it seemed he didn’t need to say anything. Chibi turned to look back at the three corpses for a few long seconds that seemed to drag on, then returned his gaze to him, their eyes locking._

_“Nothing ever stays the same, does it?” Chibi quietly asked, sounding much older than he looked. A faraway look appeared in his eyes and he turned away again, staring into empty space. “Sure, we can pretend everything’s okay…” He sighed heavily. “But I can never wash my hands of all the wrong I’ve done.”_

_He had no idea why, but the words of that last sentence felt as if they had pierced his very soul…What did he mean?_

_He wasn’t sure how long he stared mutely at the young boy before the sound of groaning metal and radio static reached his ears, growing louder with each passing second. He quickly turned towards the entrance. Something was coming up the stairs. Panic jolted through his body and he quickly turned back around, ready to grab Chibi and hide from whatever was coming up here until they could escape—_

_Chibi was gone._

_He stared dumbly at the empty spot where the boy once stood for a moment before scanning the room. There was no sign he had even been there in the first place or any clue as to where he had gone. What was…?_

_The big hand on the clock finally inched itself onto the twelve with a click that echoed throughout the room. And as soon as it did, the bell began to sway and ring on its own accord. The loud_ gong _with all twelve rings was nearly deafening, forcing him to cover his ears. And yet…it did nothing to drown out the approaching footsteps and the radio static…_

_Distorted noises and the sound of whispering voices being played backwards began to flood his ears amidst the static, only fueling his nervousness…But every couple of seconds, a voice would whisper something intelligible in the sea of confusion._

_“Some…l your f…heart like m…don’t deserve…tion inside your h…harder than…an eter…ful, so why…never count the c…with your lo…exactly what’s b…”_

_The bell rang one last time, and a horrid, shrill sound filled his ears as his entire vision whited out._

**OoOoOoO**

Yamcha slowly opened his eyes, letting out a quiet groan as he was pulled back to consciousness. The first thing his groggy mind was aware of was the pain. His entire body was sore, as if he had just been in a tiring battle, and his head felt like it was pounding. He instinctively raised a hand to his forehead to rub it, trying to ease the headache.

For a few minutes, all he could focus on was the dream he had just woken up from. It was so unnerving, and he remembered it so vividly. _At least it wasn’t another nightmare,_ he told himself, trying to at least find some kind of silver lining in all this madness.

As his mind finally started to wake up, the memories leading up to this point slowly started falling into place. He blinked, and that’s when he realized that he was lying back-first on what felt like a mattress, staring up at a creamy-white ceiling. He breathed in, and for the first time, noticed a strong, smoky odor. He grimaced slightly and looked around the room, which would’ve been dark had it not been for the lamp on a nearby table…

And his eyes fell on a figure standing at a window not too far from him. It was a woman, and she had a cigarette in one hand. Her back was to him, and she was looking out of the window…And she had familiar blue hair…

A jolt of excitement slammed into Yamcha, his dark eyes widening. “Tenshi?!” he cried out, quickly sitting up. He immediately regretted it as a wave of agony burned through his body, making him grit his teeth and fall back to the mattress. But part of him didn’t really care. He finally found her! She was…she was…

The woman turned around to face him, and by now, Yamcha was able to get a good look at her appearance. She was very beautiful, no doubt about it. But now that he was really looking at her, he could see in the lighting that her skin was white as snow, her wavy hair was a deep shade of sky-blue that ended just above her shoulders, though the bangs covering her forehead had dyed blood-red streaks in them, and her eyes were a bluish-gray color.

She looked so much like Tenshi, but…

“No…” Yamcha said quietly, his previous excitement leaving him. “You’re not…” She wasn’t his childhood friend.

The woman smirked at him. “Do I look like your girlfriend?” she asked teasingly. Even her voice was beautiful, and so similar to Tenshi’s voice…

Yamcha was sure his face flushed red for a few seconds. “No,” he said. “An old friend of mine.”

The woman’s smirk fell as she took a drag of her cigarette, slowly breathing out the smoke as she walked over to the other side of the room. As she did, Yamcha watching her the whole time, he couldn’t help but notice details about her appearance.

She looked to be around Bulma’s height, though she was a couple of inches taller than the Capsule Corp. heiress. Her figure was slender, but still had curves in all the right places. Her outfit only accentuated that fact. She was wearing a low-cut white tank top that showed off the cleavage of her ample bosom, a black leather jacket, and a red mini skirt. She had her makeup done with a smoky eyeshadow and red lipstick, giving her a seductive look. Black thigh-high lace-top stockings covered her legs, giving her bottom a ‘plush’ look, and she wore knee-high white boots with high heels that clicked on the floor which each step. There was a single pearl earring in each ear, and she had a golden bangle around her left wrist. To put it simply, she was gorgeous and she made sure everyone who looked at her knew it.

The woman had crossed the room and picked up something that had been sitting on a desk. A small brown bottle, by the looks of it. She turned and walked back to him, sitting on the edge of the bed and handing it to him. She was close enough for him to catch a whiff of her peppermint perfume over the smoke. “Here,” she said. “You’re gonna need this.”

Yamcha slowly pulled himself up into a sitting position, trying to ignore his aching muscles as he reached up and took the bottle from her. As he did, he noticed that her fingernails had been painted a scarlet-red color, the light from the lamp reflecting off of them. He glanced down at the bottle and saw that there was some kind of dark liquid inside, and the label on it simply said _‘Health Drink’._

At this point, after everything that’s happened thus far, Yamcha’s mind basically said, ‘Screw it.’ “Thank you,” he said as he unscrewed the lid and brought the bottle to his mouth, downing the whole drink at once. It was cold and had a bittersweet taste to it, but after a few second, he could feel the ache starting to leave his muscles, and his headache was slowly dwindling away as well.

He breathed out a quiet sigh, and that’s when he looked over himself for the first time. His white martial arts jacket had been removed, currently folded up and resting at the foot of the bed, though he still had his tank top, pants and shoes on, and his forehead and left forearm were wrapped in gauze bandages.

“You made quite an entrance,” the woman giggled, making Yamcha look back up at her. “It’s a good thing I was there when it happened.”

Yamcha gave her a confused look. “What…exactly happened to me?” he asked her.

“I was hiding out in these apartments,” the woman explained, taking another drag of her cigarette. “And all of a sudden you come crashing in here, all bloody and out cold. I managed to drag you to this room and patch you up.” She paused to giggle again. “But it wasn’t easy. You’re a big fella, I’ll say that much.”

Yamcha turned slightly red from her comment, but chose to brush it off. “T-Thank for helping me out,” he said.

The woman grinned at his reaction, seemingly pleased with herself. Then after a moment or two, she asked, “So, I look like this ‘Tenshi’ girl?”

“Yeah…” Yamcha said, still unable to get over his surprise at her appearance, especially now that he could get a good look at her face. “I can’t believe it,” he breathed out. “You could be her twin! Your face, your voice…Just your hair and eyes are slightly different—”

“My name is Evie,” the blue-haired woman cut him off, shooting him a playful smirk. “I don’t look like a ghost, do I?”

Yamcha gave her an odd look. What would make her say something like that? His thoughts couldn’t travel any further than that, however, as Evie reached over with her free hand and grabbed Yamcha’s wrist, bringing his right hand close to her. “See?” she said, placing his hand right above her chest, just inches from her breasts. “Feel how warm I am?”

It was true, he could feel the warmth of her flesh beneath his palm, but nevertheless he quickly pulled his hand away from her and raised up his left hand, showing the golden bang around his ring finger. “I’m married, lady,” he said bluntly, certain that his face was red from her actions. He paused, then quietly added, “You’re really not Tenshi, are you?” He couldn’t hide the disappointment in his voice.

“I told you,” she said, standing up from the bed and blowing out the smoke from her cigarette. “I’m Evie.”

“Sorry,” Yamcha said, glancing down at his lap. “I was confused.”

Evie merely shrugged. A few seconds of silence reigned between them before the bluenette spoke up again. “So, why are you here? I thought Kioku Town was abandoned.”

Yamcha glanced back up at her. “I’m looking for Tenshi, and my sister Sencha.” He perked up for a moment, hope swelling within him. “Have you seen either of them?”

“Afraid not,” Evie said, finishing off her cigarette and dropping it to the ground, stomping on it with her boot. Once again, Yamcha couldn’t hide his disappointment as his hope died down. “You’re the only person I’ve seen in this town.” She sent a confused look his way. “Why would they be here, anyways?”

“I got a letter from them,” the ex-bandit explained, swinging his legs over the side of the bed and standing up, grateful that his body was no longer sore. “They said they were waiting here in Kioku Town for me. It’s been so long since I’ve seen them. But…I haven’t seen anyone since I got here…” He paused to turn to the window. It was still gray and foggy outside, and the snow had really started to pile up in the streets. “This whole place is like a ghost town…”

“You’re telling me,” Evie said, placing both hands on her hips. “Say, do you know what happened to this town?”

“Oh, I wish,” Yamcha sighed. Then a realization struck him like an angry lightning bolt, and his eyes widened. “Oh no, my bag…” he said out loud.

“Huh?” Evie said.

“My bag!” Yamcha exclaimed, rapidly scanning the room in panic. “Where’s my bag?!”

“Oh, you mean this?” Evie said simply, and Yamcha watched as she walked to the other side of the room and bent down to lift something off the ground with one hand. “Catch,” she said playfully, and Yamcha recognized it as his messenger bag just as she tossed it to him and he caught it effortlessly. Yamcha quickly opened it up, and let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding when he saw that everything—the music box, the map, and the flashlight—were all accounted for and miraculously undamaged.

Evie walked over to him and curiously looked inside the bag as his nerves calmed down. “Is that a music box?” she asked, making Yamcha look back up at her.

“Yeah,” he said, giving the object a fond smile as he pulled it out with one hand and lifted it up, as if to examine it. “It belonged to Tenshi.” Evie looked momentarily surprised, but smiled at the music box as well.

Yamcha’s gaze remained locked on the blue and gold music box for a few more minutes as his mind wandered. He had already been through so much chaos that the quiet tranquility around him felt almost unreal. A part of him suddenly became curious and, without tearing his gaze away from the music box, he reached out with his chi sense…

…Only to feel nothing around him.

Dark eyes widened in surprise as their owner turned to look at Evie, who was still admiring the music box over his shoulder. Her blue-gray eyes met his, giving him a confused look. “Is something wrong?” she asked.

Yamcha couldn’t answer for a second, then he shook his head. “I’m sorry,” he said, putting the music box back in the messenger back and placing it over his shoulder. “Uh, is there a bathroom in this place?”

Evie blinked at him, but nodded her head and pointed to the other side of the room. “Yeah, it’s right there,” she said. Yamcha nodded wordlessly and walked to the room she had pointed at, closing the door behind him once he was inside. He exhaled heavily, burying his face in his hands.

He tried it again, focusing a little harder this time…But still nothing…

He couldn’t feel Evie’s chi. But why? She had stood right in front of him. He had felt her warmth beneath his palm. He had easily smelt her perfume. Her voice had been clear as day to him…So why couldn’t he feel anything from her?

Yamcha walked over to the sink, staring back at his reflection. He closed his eyes and rubbed them, still staring back at himself in the cracked, dirty mirror of the dilapidated bathroom when he reopened his eyes. Curious, he touched his fingers to the bandages covering his forehead, pleasantly surprised that there was no dull ache in response. He did the same with his forearm, and got the same results. He untied both sets of bandages, and instead of the angry red wounds from before, he was instead greeted with pink marks, looking to be nearly completely healed over. Yamcha had no idea what was in that ‘Health Drink’, and it sure couldn’t compete with Senzu beans, but he’d be damned if it didn’t work wonders.

Wordlessly, he turned on the sink, the faucet letting out a rusty squeak and trembling for a moment before fresh water escaped it. Yamcha cupped the running water in his palms and splashed it in his face. An idea struck him a moment later, making him pause for a moment. Was something wrong with his ability to sense chi? Now that his mind was more awake, it was the only thing that made sense. Ever since he arrived in this damned town, he hadn’t been able to sense anyone or make sense of anything.

Then that meant…Yamcha’s eyes widened again as he stopped splashing water in his face. Sencha and Tenshi might still be here waiting for him. He just couldn’t sense them. He had no idea why, but it was the only logical explanation.

And if there were still here in Kioku Town, still here in a town full of monstrous creatures, then he couldn’t waste any time in finding them.

Yamcha quickly finished up and turned the water off. He reopened the bathroom door and stepped back into the other room, where Evie was standing in the same spot as before, the blue-haired woman looking up as she heard the door creak open.

As he closed the door behind him, Yamcha started to drink in the sight of his surroundings. They were standing in a bedroom, he could tell that much. Like everything else in the town, it had seen better days. Most of the wallpaper had long since peeled off, the carpets had old stains caked into them, the only furniture in the room consisted of a bed with a nightstand next to it, a desk in the corner with a vanity mirror, and a dresser, a thick layer of dust covered everything, the curtains over the window were filthy and torn up, and the room gave off a damp, moldy odor. The door to the bathroom was on one side of the room, while the window was on the opposite end, and there was a second door on the wall to his left. For a moment, he thought it might be a hotel room, but he had a strange feeling about it…

“Where are we, by the way?” Yamcha asked as he walked back over to the bed and picked up his martial arts jacket to examine it. It had been torn up in various places, with the left forearm being little more than shreds at this point, and there were dried blood stains all over the white material.

“The old Hotaru Apartments,” the blue-haired woman responded. “We’re currently in Room 101.”

Hotaru Apartments…Yamcha felt a wave of nostalgia flood him at those words. He tried to search for a reason why, but nothing in his memories came up. But the nostalgic feeling remained. Did that mean…?

A realization cropped up in his mind. Every place he had visited so far, every place that had been a part of his childhood—the schoolhouse, the park, the diner—had all been accompanied by this same feeling of nostalgia. Following that logic, that meant the Hotaru Apartments _must_ have been a part of his childhood as well.

Sencha and Tenshi could’ve been anywhere in Kioku Town, but they would no doubt be in a place familiar to him…Was it possible that these apartments could be one of those places?

Yamcha folded the martial arts jacket back up and put it in the messenger bag. He figured that he could repair and clean it when he got back to Capsule Corp. Curious, he walked over to the door on his left and opened it up, revealing the rest of the apartment, which was in a similar state of decay as the bedroom. The apartment had a living room-kitchen combo, split by a breakfast bar, there was a single, large window on the far side of the room, and the only furniture was an old, filthy couch and a stained coffee table. There were three other doors; two were open, one revealing a guest bedroom while the other revealed another bathroom. The third door was closed and had a peephole on it, telling him that it was the entrance to the apartment.

Yamcha turned back to Evie. “Thank you so much for helping me,” he said respectfully. “But I have to leave now.”

“Where are you going?” Evie asked.

“I need to go look for Sencha and Tenshi,” he explained. “It’s a long story, but…I think they might be somewhere in these apartments.” He turned and walked over to the main door, but as he put his hand on the knob to open it up, the sound of clicking footsteps reached his ears and he looked over his shoulder to see Evie approaching him. “You’re coming with me?” he asked in surprise.

“You were gonna just leave me?” Evie asked in disbelief, furrowing her brow at him. “With all these monsters around?”

“N-No, I…” Yamcha trailed off, unable to find a valid excuse. He ashamed to admit that he hadn’t thought about that.

“I’m all alone here,” Evie said quietly, sounding quite pitiful. “Everyone else is gone.” She paused as she closed the distance between them, placing her hands on his arm and giving him a small smile. “I look like Tenshi, don’t I? You love her, right?”

“Huh?” It was the only thing Yamcha could say in his surprise, not expecting something like that.

“I mean, you said that you haven’t seen her in years, but you still came to this town when she reached out to you,” Evie said, then her smile turned into a smirk. “Or maybe you _hated_ her?”

Yamcha blinked, then narrowed his eyes into a glare and yanked his arm away from the blue-haired woman. “Don’t be ridiculous,” he practically growled at her, a surprised look on her face.

“So…It’s okay?” Evie asked quietly, looking up at him with her gray-blue eyes. Yamcha inwardly cursed himself. It wasn’t too dissimilar from the way that Tenshi used to look at him. A few more memories began to resurface. Tenshi would sometimes get that look on her face whenever she was with him and his family; unsure about the world around her, but feeling comfortable and secure around them.

He sighed to himself. “Yeah, fine,” he said. Evie, for her part, looked gratified by his words as he turned the knob and opened the door, the two of them heading out to the rest of Hotaru Apartments together.

* * *

_Lay your heart into my perfect machine_

_I will show you what you wanted to see_

_Just a mirror till I get what I need_

_The reverie was not of me_

_You never saw nothing_

_Never saw nothing_

**Author's Note:**

> Have you ever wondered what Yamcha’s past was like? Where his love for martial arts came from? Why he refuses to kill? Why he’s always been so protective of Bulma since he met her? Why he didn’t hesitate to go after the Red Ribbon Army?


End file.
